Chaucer's Potions
by Witch Lisa
Summary: COMPLETE! Can two potion masters put aside their past to hunt for an obscure, powerful potion? Epilogue is up!
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE  
  
  
  
Hermione Granger was disgusted.  
  
The scrolls in front of her, 30 feet in all, were a load of - what was that American phrase? Oh, yes - a load of hooey. Her Potions Mistress thesis paper, two years of research, three months of organization and a final week of nonstop writing, not to mention last nights all-nighter - and it was a load of hooey on parchment. She miserably thought of a few more words that would also colorfully describe the poop, crap and shit that was her thesis - but she did rather enjoy the way the word "hooey" was rolling off her tongue.  
  
Her paper was hooey.  
  
And it was due today.  
  
Hermione buried her head in her arms and slumped against the table dejectedly. Minutes later, she heard the swish of robes and the creak of a chair and knew that someone had joined her at the library table. Sniffing, she caught a whiff of a familiar scent - expensive Muggle cologne, rosemary, asphodel and cedar.  
  
Snape.  
  
Shit.  
  
She groaned and was annoyed to hear a distinct chuckle coming from the other side of the table. Raising her head slightly, she met her former professor and current mentor's gaze. Oh, and don't forget, former lover.  
  
Ugh. This is going to be a bad day, she mused. Very, very bad.  
  
"What do you want, Snape?" she said, finally sitting up. She glared at him blearily and brought one inkstained hand up to rub her sore neck.  
  
"Up late, my favorite Gryffindor?" he said, cracking a superior grin.  
  
"You know I was," she said grumpily. "I had better get moving, I have to get this piece of shit turned in before noon, then come back to Hogwarts and pack up. Will you thank Madam Pince for letting me take over her library for a week?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
She began to clean up her workspace and gather her materials. Potions Master Severus Snape studied at his protégé and chuckled for the second time that morning. Hermione shot him a look that clearly communicated she thought that might just be a record. He just shook his head and moved to stand behind her and began to rub her tense neck and shoulders.  
  
"Hermione, you don't have to hurry. I'm the initial reader of your thesis. I will take it, make the copies and forward it to Dumbledore and the other Masters in the UK. You'll probably know by Easter if you have been awarded Master status," he said. "I have no doubt that you will."  
  
Hermione had immediately relaxed under his familiar ministrations. She leaned back a bit and smiled at him.  
  
"Thanks for saying that," she began. "And thanks for all of your help. The fact of the matter is, that I didn't find Chaucer's potion for purity. Yes, my thesis proves conclusively that he was a wizard. Yes, my thesis proves that the Canterbury Tales were partially metaphor for wizarding relationships in his day. Yes, my thesis proves that there were potions hidden in code in the lines of his work. But that's it!"  
  
Snape looked at the back of Hermione's head in shock. He stopped his massage and moved to sit on the table. After a few moments, she looked up from rolling her parchments to meet his gaze.  
  
"Hermione, it has been theorized for years that Geoffery Chaucer was a wizard and that he had hidden potions in his work, but no one could ever prove it. You did," he said. "Just because you couldn't find the entire recipe, doesn't mean that you were a failure. You need to stop being so hard on yourself."  
  
"That's rich, coming from you, you overgrown, sadistic bat," she snorted.  
  
"Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment." He stood and resumed her backrub, this time working her spine. "I suppose you were up all night doing a final edit."  
  
She nodded. He sighed.  
  
"Someday, Hermione, you will realize there is more to life than grades," he said.  
  
"Not very damn soon," she replied. "As soon as you read the load of hooey I wrote, you're all going to recommend that I go dig ditches for a living or sling popcorn at a movie theatre. Either that or I'll have to go back to school for another specialization."  
  
"Somehow I doubt that." A gentle hand pushed her forward until she was leaning on the arms again and the massage continued. He was pleased when he felt her muscles relax under his hands and resisted the temptation to lift her shirt to caress the skin of her back.  
  
"Gods, you're good at that," she sighed. "I'd forgotten how good you were at backrubs."  
  
"Well, it has been nearly two years since I've had the opportunity to give you one," he chided. "I don't think you would have gotten through NEWTS without them."  
  
"Has it really been that long?" asked the now-boneless lump drooped over the table.  
  
"Yes, you finished school almost two years ago," he replied stiffly. He was surprised when Hermione suddenly chuckled.  
  
"No one would ever have believed that you and I had an affair during my seventh year," she said, softly laughing. "I was Head Girl, the smart one of the Dream Team, the good girl that kept Harry and Ron from too much trouble, studious and rather quiet. Who would have guessed?"  
  
"No one ever did," he said. "And I never told anyone, did you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I believe Dumbledore knew, but decided to overlook it. After Voldemort's defeat that fall -"  
  
"We all needed a bit of fun?" Hermione interrupted, turning to him with a grin. He shook his head.  
  
"It was more than just 'fun,' Hermione," he protested. "At least it was for me."  
  
He stopped the massage, dropped a kiss on the curly rats nest that was her hair, and held out his hand for the bulky roll of parchment. She handed it to him with a wary look.  
  
"I'm sure it will be fine, Hermione," he reassured her. "I wouldn't have let you continue with this line of thought if it hadn't been a good idea. You'll get your title and then I'll have to watch my back - you'll be after my job."  
  
"Somehow, I just don't think Hogwarts would be the same without the 'bat of the dungeons,'" said Hermione. "Besides, I don't think I could be mean enough to keep the students on task and prevent explosions. You are a master at that."  
  
"Thank you," he said and gave her a small bow. She shouldered her heavy book bag and forced her gaze up to meet Snape's. "Well."  
  
"Well," she echoed. "Professor Snape, thank you for all of the help you have given me over the years. If I never said so, I think you are a brilliant teacher and mentor. Thank you."  
  
"That sounds suspiciously like 'goodbye,' Hermione," he said, softly.  
  
"Well, we split up -"  
  
"You left me, Hermione," he interjected.  
  
"Okay, the relationship ended?" she asked. He sighed and nodded. "And not three months later you get saddled with me and my thesis project. If it weren't for the owl post, we probably would have killed each other that first year. I would think that I am nothing but a nasty reminder of a failed relationship and that you would be happy to be free of me."  
  
"Hermione -"  
  
"Besides," she said, attempting to tease. "Don't you have some cute seventh year to seduce?"  
  
The joke may have been funny while they were together, but it was totally inappropriate now. Snape's open expression suddenly snapped closed. His icy 'git' mask firmly in place, he glared at her and quickly backed her into a corner.  
  
"You of all people should know I am NOT that type of man, Hermione," he spat. "I loved you. I wasn't just in it for the sex. I am not interested in chasing teenagers and I do not appreciate your insinuations."  
  
He glowered over her for a moment - a moment that she thought he would kiss her. Unbidden, thoughts of their first time together, the afternoon after Voldemort's fall, came to mind. His rough, desperate kisses on her lips and body with the grass of the Quidditch pitch soft against her back. Her eyes fluttered closed and she felt his breath on her lips.  
  
Abruptly, he stepped back.  
  
"I assure you that our previous relationship will have no bearing on my decision," he said, formally.  
  
"I never expected it would," she said.  
  
"Good day, Miss Granger."  
  
"Good day, Professor." 


	2. Chapter one

CHAPTER ONE  
  
Here bygynneth the Book of the Tales of Caunterbury  
  
Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote  
  
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote  
  
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,  
  
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;  
  
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth  
  
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth  
  
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne  
  
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,  
  
And smale foweles maken melodye,  
  
That slepen al the nyght with open eye-  
  
(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);  
  
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages  
  
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes  
  
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;  
  
And specially from every shires ende  
  
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,  
  
The hooly blisful martir for the seke  
  
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.  
  
A portion of The General Prologue, Geoffery Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales."  
  
****  
  
Hermione was settled on her mother's sofa, swathed in a giant quilt and reading "The Canterbury Tales" out loud in Middle English to Crookshanks. It was raining and despite the fairly warm spring day, she was curled up with hot chocolate and a large bag of Muggle cheese doodles. She was attempting to enjoy reading the Tales for pleasure for the first time in two years - and avoiding the need to find a place to live. The Daily Prophet was neatly folded on the coffee table, however, and the 'apartments to let' section had yet to be scanned. Hermione thought for the thousandth time, she should wait to see if her thesis was accepted before she looked for a job and 'adult' living arrangements.  
  
She was trying to be patient. Logical. Mature.  
  
But it wasn't going well. Easter had come and gone and she still didn't have the results of her Potions thesis yet. She tossed the book onto the coffee table and sullenly licked the bright orange doodles goop from her hands. Once they were clean, she waved her wand at the book and it began to read to her - in a voice strangely reminiscent of Professor Snape. Hermione shook her head at the voice she had inadvertently conjured, tried to relax and let the words and the stories wash over her.  
  
Whilom, as olde stories tellen us,  
  
Ther was a duc that highte Theseus;  
  
Of Atthenes he was lord and governour,  
  
And in his tyme swich a conquerour,  
  
That gretter was ther noon under the sonne.  
  
  
  
The enchanted book had barely begun the first part of The Knight's Tale, when Hermione sat straight up - dislodging the cat, doodles, empty cup and quilt. Racing to her room, she rummaged through her thesis notes and found the "recipe" for the purity potion. Reading it one last time, she grinned like a madwoman.  
  
"Surely that's not it," she said to herself. "It's too simple of a solution. But what if it is?"  
  
She walked to the mirror, swished to apply makeup, flicked to tame her hair into somewhat smoother curls and muttered a Latin charm to transform her Muggle jeans and turtleneck sweater into flowing navy blue robes. She scribbled a note for her parents, grabbed some Floo powder and scrambled into the fireplace. Looking down at her new robes, she cast a quick, wandless charm to ward off soot and grime. Then she called, "The Headmaster!" and was whooshed away in a green flame. Crookshanks simply looked at the low-burning fire and made himself a comfortable nest in the forgotten quilt.  
  
"Albus!" Hermione called as she emerged from his fireplace. The old wizard smiled and stood to greet her warmly. "I hope you don't mind my using our Floo connection, even though my thesis is complete and I don't need to come to Hogwarts officially."  
  
They hugged and Dumbledore patted her on the back: "If I hadn't hoped you'd visit, I would have closed the connection, dear."  
  
Hermione smiled and waved her parchment in his face.  
  
"I think I may have solved it. Chaucer's purity potion," she said, breathlessly. Dumbledore raised a wrinkled hand to her.  
  
"Wait just a moment, Hermione. Sit, catch your breath," he said, eyes twinkling. "I'll summon Severus, I'm sure he'll want to see you."  
  
Hermione waited for a few minutes, pacing, while the Headmaster retrieved Snape via Floo. Upon entering, Snape gave Hermione a curt nod and quickly sat beside the fire.  
  
"I suppose you received your owl today," queried Snape. Hermione looked at him in confusion and shook her head. "Oh. My apologies, Miss Granger, I've said too much. Why are you here, exactly?"  
  
"My letter?" asked Hermione, sitting beside him. "About my thesis?"  
  
Snape nodded, expressionless.  
  
"I failed. Dammit, I knew it," fumed Hermione. She stood and began pacing in front of the fire.  
  
"Severus, don't let the poor girl storm about my office like this -- tell her before she scares Fawkes," chided Dumbledore, grinning. Snape scowled at them both and caught Hermione's eye, holding her intense, anticipatory gaze.  
  
"Congratulations, Professor Granger," he said. "You are officially a Potions Master."  
  
"Really?" was all Hermione could squeak out as Dumbledore rose to stand next to her.  
  
"Really." Both men replied.  
  
Forgetting Dumbledore's age, she flew into his arms for a giant hug. Despite his frail appearance, he returned her affection with a strong grip. "Congratulations, dear," he whispered. "Now, go hug Severus."  
  
She grinned and turned to pull Snape to his feet and encircled his neck in a tight hug. Snape caved in to the happy moment and the feel of being in her arms again. He hugged her back, lifting her from her feet in the process. As he returned her to the floor, she instinctively drew his head down and met his lips with a soft kiss.  
  
"Thank you, Severus. For everything," she said.  
  
"You are very welcome."  
  
The sound of Dumbledore coughing softly brought their moment to a close.  
  
"Severus, our new Potions Master seems to have solved her puzzle."  
  
"Have you now?" asked Snape, sitting once again and digging into the bowl of sweets on the table before him. He popped two cinnamon chews into his mouth and looked at Hermione, seated in the chair next to him. "What puzzle exactly?"  
  
"The potion. I think we may have all of the ingredients correct, but that we need to go to Canterbury to brew it and perform the incantation. The potion is in code but I believe the incantation is in the General Prologue and that the location of the brewing is implied," said Hermione, breathlessly. "I had to come tell Albus -- and you."  
  
Snape shook his head and chuckled darkly.  
  
"Only you would continue working on a thesis AFTER it has been turned in, Hermione," he said. "Someday -"  
  
"I know, I know, someday I'll realize that grades aren't everything," she suddenly snapped. "If I had a knut for every time you have said that to me since my seventh year, I'd be a wealthy woman, Snape."  
  
Snape bristled.  
  
"Well, perhaps if you cared about something more than grades, books and goals, I wouldn't be inclined to attempt to pound the theory into your thick head," snorted Snape. "I swear, Hermione, if you would pull your head out of books once in a while, you might see that there is a whole life out there to live."  
  
"Lovely. And you are such a brilliant example for me, aren't you? Why don't you get your arse out of the dungeons once in a while and see this whole, picture-perfect world that you are so enamored with yourself," she retorted.  
  
"I ventured out into the world once, about two years ago," he said, hotly. "I wound up with a broken heart. I prefer my dungeons, thank you very much."  
  
"Children! Children!" interjected Dumbledore. "This is not what I hoped -"  
  
"You?!" Hermione asked, incredulously. "YOU had a broken heart? I had no choice but to leave. What was I supposed to do? I was barely eighteen! You proposed to me before I even left school! Was I supposed to marry you the day after I finished my NEWTS and hole up in that damp dungeon of yours? Forget my dreams and my career because you loved me?"  
  
"No, but if you loved me, we could have worked out a compromise," said Snape, the volume of his voice increasing. "You were just embarrassed because you were shagging the 'greasy git.' I think you were afraid what everyone would say. I did notice that you kept the ring, however. You never minded the fact that I had money. Even though you chose to hide our relationship."  
  
Hermione laughed harshly. "That's it, Severus. That's exactly it. That is revisionist history. I was never embarrassed. YOU were the one who was so cautious all those months, if I recall. Hounding me about my contraceptive potions, grilling me if you thought someone saw me going to meet you, always accusing me of letting our little secret out, complaining if I left a mark on your neck or back. All that secrecy -- If you ask me, that isn't a very good basis for a real relationship, much less a marriage."  
  
"Relationship?!! I'm beginning to wonder if we had a relationship at all, Hermione!"  
  
"Good, welcome to the club. I became sure it was just sex a long time ago," Hermione said, icily.  
  
"You bitch," began Snape. Dumbledore rose and stood between them, waving his hands and quickly rendering them both silent.  
  
"Children!"  
  
They both turned to glare at him.  
  
"I see you have unresolved issues," understated Dumbledore. "I do believe that it is time they were worked out. Hermione, you will go home and pack for a research trip to Canterbury. Severus, go downstairs and do the same. I expect to see you both here tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. You will solve this potion together."  
  
They both opened their mouths and silently protested.  
  
"At this point, I could care less what you two want," said the normally placid old man. "I have watched you two treat each other badly for two years. I did not assign Hermione's thesis project to your care, Severus, just to observe you fighting. You will settle your differences and you will be going to Canterbury. Tomorrow. Whether you like it or not."  
  
Dumbledore waved his hand once more and their voices were free. They sat in stunned silence, however, and watched the Headmaster leave the room.  
  
"I suppose I need to pack," said Hermione, resignedly. She sighed and stood, reaching for the Floo powder.  
  
"Why did you kiss me?" Snape said, out of the blue. Hermione was startled and confused by his quiet question.  
  
"When? That day on the Quidditch pitch?"  
  
"No, just now."  
  
"Did I?"  
  
"Yes, you did."  
  
"I didn't realize -"  
  
"Never mind. It was just habit, I understand. You didn't mean to kiss me. Let's just get to Canterbury and get this the hell over with," said Snape, crisply.  
  
"Severus, I -"  
  
"What, Hermione?" he said, exasperated.  
  
"Severus, I was only eighteen." 


	3. Chapter two

CHAPTER TWO  
  
  
  
Almost three years earlier -  
  
It was Hermione's eighteenth birthday. Not that anyone noticed, she grumbled to herself. Looking in the mirror of the Head Girl's bathroom, she realized she didn't look any different. Not even considering the events of the day before. Yesterday was the day Voldemort had fallen, and she had been a major player in his defeat. But today, she just wanted to be an eighteen-year-old on her birthday. She was restless and couldn't quite put her finger on what was wrong. Everything should be right.  
  
As everyone had expected, Harry Potter cast the spell that felled the monster. What had once been Tom Riddle was now encased in solid rock, miles beneath Hogwarts and warded to the gills. What everyone hadn't expected, was Severus Snape watching Harry's back, casting spells like a man possessed and clearing the way for Harry's triumph. Hermione was having trouble equating her professor with the disheveled, passionately fighting pirate of a man on the battlefield with his bloodied white linen shirt untucked and his fine black hair blowing in the breeze. He had been strangely beautiful, she reflected a bit dreamily. Fierce where Harry was righteous; yet stoic when Harry was angry. They had made a good team.  
  
After the Hogwarts contingent had apparated back to the castle with their wounded - no one dead from their group, amazingly enough - there had been little celebration. A quick meal of London broil and champagne in the Great Hall followed by a meeting with Minister Fudge to detail the day's events. The young warriors and their professors and mentors had gone to bed early. Hermione glanced at the clock now, nearly noon, it was time to head to the Great Hall and join the real celebration.  
  
She really didn't want to, though. Harry and Ron were both injured and lying in hospital nursing broken bones - and she suspected Harry was hiding from the press, while Ron hid from his mother's smothering. They wouldn't be joining the party until at least the evening meal or maybe the fireworks. And celebrating without them just didn't appeal to her. The idea of staying in her room and reading a very good, weepy kind of novel - the kind with the half-dressed pirate and the busty blonde with a ripped corset on the cover - now THAT sounded good to her.  
  
Perhaps she expected to feel differently, now that it was over. Perhaps she had expected to feel giddy or excited. She had not expected his anticlimactic letdown.  
  
Shaking her head of the gloomy thoughts, she shrugged into her dress robes and charmed her hair and makeup to perfection. Taking a deep breath, she made her way through the noisy corridors to the Great Hall.  
  
Chaos appeared to be reigning. Alcohol was flowing freely and it would appear that no one cared if a first-year imbibed. The tables had been pushed to the edges of the room and a makeshift buffet was set up on one side with beverages and desserts claiming the other. Dancers moved in the center of the floor to music from an enchanted jukebox. Students and their parents seemed to make up the majority of the guests, however, Hermione knew that the castle and its grounds would be packed to the rafters by dinnertime. Perhaps that book would be best read then.  
  
Hermione hugged and was hugged. Kissed and was kissed. She finally managed to make her way to the food table and grab a plateful of her favorite goodies. Unable to find a seat, she made her way to the empty Head Table and sat down to eat. She was repeatedly interrupted by people wanting to speak with her - and congratulate the student who had formulated the plan for Voldemort's final resting place. She wasn't quite as popular as Harry generally was, she noted, but she was proving popular enough to prevent her from finishing her meal. As the fifth person sat down next to her, she put her fork down with a thwang and glared at her Yorkshire pudding.  
  
"Look, I appreciate whatever it is that you want to say, but I would like nothing more than to sit here quietly and eat my damned meal," she snapped. "I didn't help defeat Voldemort so that I could starve to death."  
  
"And I didn't sit here so that I could be insulted, Miss Granger," spat Professor Snape. "I thought you might be a kindred spirit this afternoon as you do not seem to be interested in either becoming drunk or making a fool out of yourself. I will take my dinner elsewhere."  
  
Hermione immediately felt guilty and she laid a hand on his arm to stop him from rising. She was surprised to feel the wiry muscles under her fingers and even more startled to feel an electric pulse race through her arm straight to her stomach.  
  
"Professor, I would be honored to have dinner with you," she said. "Besides, you come with an extra bonus as a dinner companion."  
  
"I am afraid to ask, but what is that, Miss Granger?" he said, taking a bite and raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Most people are scared of you," she grinned. "I won't be bothered for the rest of my meal. I can eat in peace."  
  
"You're not afraid of me?" he asked.  
  
"No. I haven't been for quite some time. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you're really a good guy," she said. "After your performance yesterday, though, I wouldn't be surprised if you were suddenly elevated from 'bat' to 'handsome war hero.'"  
  
'Now where did that come from?' she mused, a bit embarrassed at her words. Snape was actually turning a bit pink, she realized. It was oddly endearing. In the weeks before the final battle, Snape had taken Hermione under his wing, assisting her with her plan to encase Voldemort's remains and essence in the bedrock and even inventing a new potion that would allow Harry to better focus his magic. They had formed a partnership and possibly even a small friendship. What Snape didn't realize, though, is that Hermione had managed to develop a full-blown schoolgirl crush on him. Although, she may have just inadvertently revealed that particular secret.  
  
Snape regarded his forthright young student for a moment before cautiously replying.  
  
"You don't think that - well, you don't think that the female students will start behaving the way they did around Lockhart, do you?" he said, a touch of uncharacteristic uncertainty in his voice. "Because I'm not entirely certain I can handle any love letters."  
  
"Just scowl, flap your robes a bit and take off house points. It'll be back to normal soon," she said. "I'm going back for more, can I grab you anything?"  
  
He shook his head then sat back as he watched her refill her plate and slowly make her way back to the table. They ate in relative silence, watching the revelry, laughing at some of the antics on the dancefloor and occasionally chatting with a professor or student brave enough to intrude on their solitude. Snape gallantly made the trip to the far side of the room to retrieve desserts for the two of them and he found himself sharing his carrot cake with the lovely young woman.  
  
"I can't believe I ate three and a half slices of cake," she said. "It must have something to do with the day."  
  
"Voldemort?" he queried.  
  
"Oh, no, it's my birthday. I'm officially eighteen. Although months ago, Dumbledore called me to his office and tried to tell me I was magically considered older because of the Time Turner I used years ago. But, that's too technical and too confusing. I'm just eighteen, if you ask me."  
  
"Happy Birthday, Hermione," Snape said. "I would ask you to dance in celebration of the day, but I don't think I know how to dance to this - this --- what is it exactly?"  
  
"Techno."  
  
"Ah. Well, I believe you students have a good phrase to describe this techno. It sucks," he said.  
  
"Did you just make a joke, Professor?" she asked. He just nodded and quirked one corner of his mouth in a slight grin. "Would you like to take a walk? With me?"  
  
He hesitated. Sharing a meal in plain view of everyone was one thing, but sharing a private walk with a female student was another - especially the one female student that Snape reluctantly admitted to being attracted to.  
  
"Miss Granger, I don't know."  
  
"It IS my birthday," she coaxed.  
  
"As you wish. Please lead the way," he said. She rose and snuck out the staff door, almost skipping through the winding corridors until they reached the door to a small, elegant courtyard. Snape watched her slim figure in front of him with interest and only half expected Dumbledore to jump out from behind a door or statue to reprimand him for his lustful thoughts. Once they arrived outside, he attempted to put on his "Potion Master" façade, but in the bright sunlight of a day that dawned without the evil of Voldemort - it was nearly impossible.  
  
"I'm not going to ask how you knew about these staff corridors, Miss Granger," he said, scowling. He looked at her as she grinned mischievously up at him and shook his head. He offered her his arm and she took it.  
  
The odd couple explored the small courtyard's fall foliage and walked across the grassy lawn. A giant field of wildflowers had been conjured near the Quidditch stadium for today's festivities and Hermione dropped her professor's arm to sprint to its center. She crouched and began picking a few of the fragrant stems as Snape slowly walked across the flowery carpet to join her. Smiling at him, she arranged a showy bouquet of red and yellow flowers and used her wand to secure the bunch.  
  
"Gryffindor colors?" he asked, amused. "Are all Gryffindors obsessed with your house colors?"  
  
She responded with a wicked grin and flicked her wand, shrinking the flowers to the size of a boutonniere which she then magically secured to his frock coat. Unable to decide whether it was a challenge or an honestly nice gesture, Snape decided to accept the flowers gracefully. He knelt and gathered a bouquet of all colors, secured it and handed it to her, all the while feeling like a sappy git from a stupid Muggle movie. That stupid feeling fled, however, when Hermione rose on her toes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.  
  
"Thank you, Professor. For everything," she said. "I don't think yesterday would have gone quite so well without you and I know my birthday would have -"  
  
"Sucked?" he asked, attempting to lighten the mood that had suddenly become rather intense.  
  
She burst out laughing and reached to grab and squeeze his hand. "Yes, it would have sucked, Professor. You do seem to like that word. Are you hinting that there is some truth to the vampire rumors?"  
  
He squeezed her hand back.  
  
"I'll never tell," was all he replied.  
  
He gestured towards the Quidditch stadium and they continued their walk in that direction, both very aware that they were still holding hands. In the afternoon shadows of the far side of the pitch, Snape stopped and tightened his grip on her hand. She continued a step or two, then turned around to see why he had stopped. The expression on his face concerned her.  
  
"Professor, what is it?" she asked. "You look like you are going to be sick."  
  
She tucked her flowers into her pocket, stepped to him and rested her free hand against his forehead and then against his cheek. The look in his eyes communicated that he knew what they were about to do was wrong - just as she knew. His eyes also told her that he had long stopped caring.  
  
Rising once again to her toes, she brushed his lips with a gentle kiss. She pulled back and looked at him again - and was shocked to see by the look in his eyes that the passionate pirate of the battlefield had returned. Somewhere in her teenaged mind she realized that this was Snape with his mask off and defenses dropped. He took a deep breath and pulled her into a tight embrace and imprisoned her lips in a slow, sometimes timid but sensual kiss. Their kisses deepened as the shadows spread across the pitch and the afternoon progressed.  
  
Snape was in a daze. It had been so long since he had been able to let his guard down with a female, much less one that was his intellectual equal. The few whores he had visited in the years since his last relationship failed had been less than satisfying and he had missed just being able to kiss someone he cared about. Somehow, Snape's cloak had found its way to the grass as a blanket and somehow, Hermione had wound up underneath him - all softness and curves and an eager warm, moist mouth.  
  
Now, as evening approached, he knew that the festivities would begin moving outside - he could smell the bonfire that had been built down by the lake burning already. He reluctantly broke their embrace and pulled himself upright to sit next to her. He gently smoothed her wayward curls from her forehead and they exchanged an affectionate smile.  
  
"How long have we been out here, I wonder?" asked Hermione, finally. "I believe we lost track of the time."  
  
"We did. And it's been at least three hours. It's nearly time for the evening meal and fireworks. Your friends should be leaving the Hospital Wing soon and I'm sure they will be looking for you," he said, standing and helping her to her feet. "Why don't we rejoin the party?"  
  
"Do we have to?" she asked, reaching to help him button his coat and fasten his robes. He tenderly returned the favor.  
  
"Yes, we really should. Unless you want to get caught in a compromising position with your professor on the Quidditch pitch," he smiled at her warmly. He looked at her questioningly for a moment, deep in thought. "Hermione-"  
  
She brought a finger up to his lips to silence him.  
  
"I don't want to be caught, but I wouldn't mind being in a compromising position with my professor on the Quidditch pitch. Perhaps after the fireworks, we could meet back here?" she said, hopefully.  
  
"Hermione - are you sure about all of - of this?" he said. She nodded. "Then let me ask you something. Are you -" He paused and was at a loss for the appropriate words, quite unlike his usual quick self.  
  
"Am I a virgin?" she asked, rather enjoying his discomfort after his recent passionate display.  
  
"Yes, that's what I was asking," he said. "I just don't think the Quidditch pitch is the right place to - I'd never forgive myself if THAT was your memory of -"  
  
"I'm not. You aren't disappointed in me, are you?" she said, a bit unsure herself now.  
  
"As your professor and mentor, yes, I am - because I assume it was Krum?" She nodded. "And you were, what? Fifteen then? I had thought you were more responsible than that, and would have been mature enough to wait until you were older. However, as a man, who is much older and more experienced than you, and who wants very much to be your - your lover; I must admit relief."  
  
"Then will you meet me here after the fireworks?"  
  
He took a deep breath and mentally jumped off the bridge.  
  
"Yes, yes I will."  
  
She smiled and kissed him before dashing off toward the sounds of celebration by the lake - leaving him slightly dazed and shaken, but also content. Perhaps, just perhaps, his life would finally be happy, he thought.  
  
Perhaps. 


	4. Chapter three

CHAPTER THREE  
  
" In th'olde dayes of the Kyng Arthour,  
  
Of which that Britons speken greet honour,  
  
All was this land fulfild of fayerye.  
  
The elf-queene, with hir joly compaignye,  
  
Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede.  
  
This was the olde opinion, as I rede;  
  
I speke of manye hundred yeres ago."  
  
Hermione closed her text of the Canterbury Tales with a small sigh. Well, they were preparing for a pilgrimage to Canterbury, of sorts. She wasn't an elf-queen and Severus Snape was far from being a jolly companion. It was going to be a long, enforced research trip. However, as long as they managed to get through the next week without killing each other, she would consider the mission a success. No, wait, if they managed to survive the week without killing each other or winding up in bed - THEN it would be a success.  
  
She sighed again - it seemed to help - and slipped the heavy book into her briefcase. Her small suitcase was packed already and she was killing time until she had to leave for Hogwarts. And Snape.  
  
It was somehow easier to think of him as Snape. Severus brought to mind too many images. When she thought back to the romance of her seventh year, she always began with an image of Snape on the battlefield. She could still see him fighting so bravely, his buttoned-up, stiff and meticulous appearance gone and his soul and wiry body laid bare for the world to see. She hadn't been the only student at Hogwarts to develop a crush on the Potions Master after the war ended. However, she was fortunate to have seen tiny pieces of Severus Snape prior to the battle - and had what she always called a running start on the competition. It didn't hurt that she was already sharing his bed when the cupids, love letters and flowers began to arrive from his admirers at Hogwarts and beyond.  
  
It was odd to think of a man such as Severus Snape as her school days sweetheart, but he was. It was heady, romantic, breath taking - just like something out of one of the romance novels that teenaged Hermione had always read. It was passionate, forbidden and exciting in its secrecy. She had visualized a sweet parting when she left school, perhaps a few stolen weekends in bed over the next year or two, and then she had always expected that she would find a nice boy her own age and fall in love. She was still waiting for that to happen. And she was still waiting to fall out of love with Severus Snape. She was beginning to wonder if it was ever going to happen.  
  
With a final sigh, she put the memories out of her mind and walked to her parent's fireplace. Tossing in some Floo powder, she was quickly transported to Dumbledore's office and immediately engrossed in a conversation with the old wizard. She finally relaxed - for the first time in 24 hours.  
  
Snape stood in the shadows near Fawkes, stroking his feathers and speaking softly to him. Dumbledore was puttering around his office, smiling like a madman and probably plotting he and Hermione's future, not to mention their children and grandchildren, Snape thought. Not that the idea wasn't pleasant, but Snape was being realistic. After all, he had proposed once - no wait, twice - to the lovely Miss Granger. And she was still Miss Granger, so the old wizards wishes were a bit far-fetched. Thus, Snape had retreated to the shadows and the quiet bird - leaving the old wizard to accost Hermione with his enthusiasm the moment she arrived by Floo. He surreptitiously watched her talking to Dumbledore. Her eyes were sparkling with anticipation and intelligence. She had obviously overcome the fact that Dumbledore was insisting he accompany her to Canterbury - probably an easier task than it was for him. She was focused on the work, on the trials they would perform and the intellectual task at hand. She could care less if he was along for the ride. Just like always.  
  
Watching her, he wondered once again how he could have missed it. They had been together about nine months, yet he had never suspected it was a less meaningful relationship for her than for him. Well, perhaps "less" was a harsh word. He had no doubt that she had loved him her seventh year. He had no doubt that he still held a special place in her heart as her first love. And he had no doubt that her studies and her work came first. After years of working against Voldemort and basically having his life on hold - he had different priorities. Snape wanted a home, wife and family. Or at least a home, live-in girlfriend and a prospect of a family in the not-too-distant future. He supposed that he shouldn't hold it all against her. She was still so young. Perhaps someday soon she would find a nice boy her own age and fall in love, and he could give up all hope and move on with his life. He was still waiting for that to happen with a heavy heart. And he was still waiting to fall out of love with Hermione Granger. He was beginning to wonder if it was ever going to happen.  
  
"Well, Severus, are you ready to go?" asked Dumbledore, cheerfully. "Hermione is ready, I've taken care of your accommodations in Canterbury and -"  
  
"Yes, yes, I'm ready," Snape replied. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we can perfect this potion and the sooner we can return."  
  
"Really, Severus, do you have to be a prat?" sighed Hermione. "I'm dealing with this little holiday and all of its ramifications, why can't you? Besides, I can't think of anyone I'd rather have helping me solve this potion than you. You're my mentor, you taught me everything I know about potions."  
  
Caught off-guard, Snape simply nodded and picked up her luggage. They both then clasped the portkey Dumbledore handed to them and gasped as the magic grabbed their stomachs and pulled them to Canterbury.  
  
They landed with a jolt and Snape's softly muttered "Damn." Hermione dropped the portkey and straightened her dress before turning to Snape and adjusting his collar and brushing his hair from his eyes. He blushed and shrugged off her attentions with a whispered "thank you." Hermione smiled and nodded in the direction of the wizarding part of town and the unhappy pair set off.  
  
Lost in their own memories and thoughts, neither noticed a pair of cold green eyes watching them from a distance. A copy of Hermione's thesis clutched in his pale hand, the man cast a spell to conceal himself and followed them. When the pair arrived at a small house on the outskirts of Canterbury's wizarding community and Snape gallantly opened the door for their entrance, the green eyes narrowed in glee. The two potions masters may manage to brew Chaucer's purity potion, but they would not live to receive the credit for it, he mused, holding back a chuckle. Nor would they be able to use it to help "the Light." Voldemort may be gone, but that was no reason for Dumbledore and his minions to take over the wizarding world, he thought angrily. And if he had his way, Chaucer's lost purity potion would stay lost for a few more generations and to hell with whoever got in his way. 


	5. Chapter four

CHAPTER FOUR  
  
"Ye goon to Caunterbury - God yow speede,  
  
The blisful martir quite yow youre meede!  
  
And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye,  
  
Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye,  
  
For trewely, confort ne myrthe is noon  
  
To ride by the weye doumb as stoon;  
  
And therfore wol I maken yow disport,  
  
As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort."  
  
Snape and Hermione entered the rented cottage on the edge of a rather large estate. Dumbledore had told Hermione in his office that the estate had been converted into a Muggle hotel years ago and the cottages were popular with honeymooners. Hermione had rolled her brown eyes at the way Dumbledore's blue eyes had twinkled when he confided that particular tidbit of information. She had nearly swallowed her tongue when he told her that their rustic looking, thatched cottage came equipped with a hot tub and other romantic features. She had wisely decided to just let Snape figure out the details on his own.  
  
Snape flicked his eyes around the cottage, looking for a light switch. Finding one, he dropped their luggage and Hermione's heavy briefcase and turned on the lights. The dim light had not done the cottage justice. Decorated in what Snape would call "early flowered grandma sofa," the cottage was obviously designed to be a romantic getaway and not an appropriate setting for two colleagues at work. He exchanged a grimace with Hermione, who appeared to be equally enamored with the décor, and stalked off in the direction of the bedroom. A very unmanly squeak let Hermione know exactly when he had discovered the hot tub.  
  
He stormed from the bedroom and threw open one door - closet. He whipped around to glare at a shrugging Hermione - the effect strongly diminished by his lack of billowing robes. He threw open a second door - a half bath. He stalked into the remaining archway to find a small kitchen with a table. He then returned to the small florid sitting room and leaned against a wall in defeat.  
  
"Only one bedroom?" she asked, biting back a grin.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Dumbledore," she said, shaking her head.  
  
"Why do I suddenly feel caught up in a predictable plot device from a bad Muggle romance novel?" whined Snape. "A rental cottage, obviously outfitted for honeymooners, with a hot tub and only one bed. What was Dumbledore thinking? That we'd just automatically succumb and wind up --?"  
  
Hermione just smiled and didn't reply. He shook his head and scowled, unwilling to complete the thought.  
  
"Please tell me that you didn't loan him one of those horrible romances you used to devour when you were in school," he pleaded. She shook her head. "He came up with this all by himself, then? I must have a little chat with the Headmaster when I return to Hogwarts."  
  
Hermione only nodded in agreement. Snape began to wonder if she was going to ever speak again on the trip. Nervously, he examined his fingernails.  
  
"Do you still read those horrid things?" he asked. "I still occasionally find them tucked away in odd places in my quarters. I am not sure if I should be insulted because I wasn't a romantic enough lover or if you were just being a typical teenaged girl."  
  
"You were everything I wanted in my first love, Severus," she finally replied, picking up his suitcase. "Don't be insulted. After all, I wasn't complaining, was I? Your - skills in bed were not the reason we broke up. In fact, I'm beginning to doubt that I'll ever find anyone that can make me --"  
  
She stopped her train of thought and moved towards the bedroom with his suitcase, setting it down just inside the door and stealing a glance at the open bath and hot tub overlooking the estate's gardens. When she turned, Snape was standing just a breath away, watching her intently.  
  
"Make you, what, Hermione?"  
  
"Make me feel the way you did, Severus. And yes, before you ask, I mean in bed," she said, exasperated and mentally hexing Dumbledore.  
  
"So you've tried - I mean, you've been with other men," he softly stammered.  
  
"Yes."  
  
It was softly spoken, but that one word reverberated through the small cottage. After several uncomfortable moments, Hermione was the one to break the silence that was suddenly threatening to put an end to their work before it began.  
  
"Well, Severus, I know you have a bad back, so you can have the bed. Besides, I'm young and that lumpy sofa will only take a few months or so off my life, I'm sure."  
  
"I would hate to have helped to defeat Voldemort only to be killed later by a ornate, flowery, disgusting pink sofa," said Snape, a wry expression on his face. "Thank you. I may even let you into my en suite bath to use the hot tub. Alone, of course."  
  
"Thanks," she said, walking past him to inspect the kitchen. "I suppose this will do. I know he had problems finding us a place to stay that had space appropriate for potion brewing and private enough to hide what we are doing. Maybe this was the only place he could find near the wizarding area of town?"  
  
Snape's look of disbelief was met with nervous laughter.  
  
"I don't believe that for a minute either, Severus," she said. "But let's pretend that all the wizarding hotels were full and that this truly was the only option."  
  
"Good, I was beginning to doubt your sanity. Well, shall we unpack and get set up?"  
  
They dug into their bags and began to settle in. They had just moved to the kitchen and begun removing vials and ingredients from one of Hermione's suitcases, when a brisk knock on the door interrupted them. Snape quirked an eyebrow at Hermione, who shrugged and went to answer the door. Moments later, Snape heard a shriek and bolted from the kitchen, wand out and curse on the tip of his tongue. He swore instead and pocketed his wand when he saw Hermione hugging Harry Potter.  
  
The pair pulled apart and turned to grin at Snape.  
  
"Mr. Potter. How are you?" Snape said, finding his manners.  
  
"Good, Professor, I'm very good," said Harry, striding over to shake Snape's hand. "I have been working in this area for some time now and Dumbledore alerted me to your arrival. He knew I'd want to see Hermione."  
  
Snape nodded, eyes narrowing as he pondered whether or not the famous Boy Who Lived was one of Hermione's recent lovers. Hermione was studiously avoiding his gaze. When she finally looked up, she blushed and suddenly became very interested in Harry's oxford shirt. Snape fought the urge to cast a castration curse at Potter as he quickly decided that Harry had most likely shared Hermione's bed.  
  
Harry's eyes darted from Snape to Hermione, taking in their uncomfortable expressions. The air was heavy with - something, Harry mused. Anger? Sexual tension? Harry mentally shook his head and waved that thought away. Not Hermione and Snape, yuck. Then he glanced around the cottage and realized it only had one bedroom. What WAS going on here?  
  
"Hermione? Did I interrupt something here?" he asked cautiously. "Dumbledore led me to believe that this is a research trip that has to do with Hermione's thesis. If I've interrupted something more than that, I apologize. I'm a bit grossed out, but I apologize. I can leave and let you get back to your - um, holiday, if you like."  
  
"Nope. Not necessary as you haven't interrupted a thing, Mr. Potter. You are about two years too late for that," grumbled Snape, as he returned to the kitchen. He picked up the kettle and pleasantly turned to his former students: "Tea?"  
  
"Tea would be grand," said Harry. He then turned to stare questioningly at Hermione, who was glaring at Snape's retreating back.  
  
"You bastard, we agreed not to discuss our relationship," she hissed, following him. "I thought we were still going to keep it a secret. It's bad enough that Dumbledore knows and is trying to reconcile us."  
  
"Hermione?" repeated Harry, feeling both sick and a bit frightened. "Professor?"  
  
The pair ignored him and seemed to be well on their way to a spat over the teapot. 'A lover's spat,' Harry thought, 'ugh.' Snape serenely looked at Hermione as she stood fuming before him.  
  
"Well, I'm tired of hiding, Hermione."  
  
"Just like that?" she said, disbelieving.  
  
"Just like that."  
  
"You do realize that if word got out that we were together while I was your student, that you would undoubtedly lose your job," asked Hermione. "Or did you lose your mind when you came out of hiding?"  
  
"School --? Hold on, you were shagging Professor Snape while we were in school?!?" said Harry, suddenly getting it and sitting down heavily in the chair that Snape held out for him. He looked up at his sometime adversary and sometime mentor in shock. "Snape? YOU seduced a student? I could see Lockhart or even Sinistra doing that, but you? You were always so - so proper and you always played by the rules. I - I -"  
  
"He isn't always 'proper,' Harry," said Hermione, still glaring. "I could tell you stories - in fact, I may just have to tell you lots of stories about our dear former Professor when he's less proper and more -- loose. If he can't keep his mouth shut, than perhaps I shouldn't either."  
  
"Urg, um, Hermione, I don't think I want to know. Get back at him with someone else okay? Just the fact that you apparently HAD sex with Professor Snape is really kinda making me sick. No offense, Professor," said Harry warily.  
  
"None taken. The fact that she apparently shagged you after me is making me a little queasy, as well. So I believe we are even, Mr. Potter," he replied as Hermione banged her head on the table with a decided twump. After a couple of angst-relieving bangs, she left it there to rest against the cool, shiny oak.  
  
Snape waved off Harry's protests then calmly poured three cups of tea. He sat back, sipped his tea and looked at the pale young hero.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Potter, to answer your question we were together for most of Hermione's seventh year and she unceremoniously dumped me the day after the Leaving Feast," he said. "Don't be so shocked, just because we're both studious and we aren't snogging people publicly on a regular basis doesn't mean that we have no emotions - or that our emotions wouldn't get the better of us. We knew what we were doing was wrong. We didn't really care. In fact, I wanted to marry Hermione, but she apparently was more interested in bedding younger men -"  
  
"Now that's not fair, Snape!" interrupted Hermione. "I wasn't ready to marry anyone and you know it. It had nothing to do with your age."  
  
Harry drank his tea and sat watching the pair duel with words and their eyes for a few moments. When they fell silent, he sighed and relaxed slightly.  
  
"Better now, Potter?" Snape asked after a few moments of silence.  
  
"Yes, I am. I'm sorry, it was just a shock. You both hid it very well at Hogwarts," Harry said, thoughtfully. "I must say I'm impressed. You out- snuck me, Hermione."  
  
Hermione grinned ruefully.  
  
"And Snape, you dirty old man, you," grinned Harry. "Who would have known?"  
  
Snape just rolled his eyes.  
  
"No, seriously, if you had been Gryffindor, you would have definitely been a Marauder."  
  
"Thank you, I think."  
  
Harry looked at the potions supplies littering the table and picked up a bright violet vial for inspection.  
  
"So, what are you guys working on and WHY did Dumbledore send you to Canterbury? Aside from trying to get you to shag like bunnies and reproduce, I mean," he said, attempting to tease them both out of their irritated moods.  
  
Hermione didn't need to be asked twice, she pounced on the chance to explain her thesis and her belated discovery. Within an hour, the trio had the first portion of the potion simmering over a low flame and the ingredients for the second step prepared and lying neatly on the table.  
  
"Wow. Can you imagine if this works?" said Harry, as he cleaned up some tools under Snape's watchful eye. "Will it make everyone pure?"  
  
"Not exactly, Harry," started Snape.  
  
Harry laughed. "Darn, and here I thought that Hermione was attempting to reclaim her virginity, Professor."  
  
Snape shook his head in disgust and Hermione punched both of the men on the arm - Snape rather less playfully than Harry.  
  
"Snape, I knew you shouldn't have told him," she fumed. She tried to glare at Harry and failed, grinning. "And for the record, I wouldn't change a single thing about the day I lost my virginity, Harry."  
  
"Please, spare me the details," Harry said, clamping his hands over his ears. Snape glared at both of them as Hermione snapped a towel in the direction of Harry's ass.  
  
"For the record, Mr. Potter, the purity potion does not restore things to a pure state," interrupted Snape in his best teacher voice. "It WILL, we believe, allow the person who drinks it to pare their thoughts, emotions, wants and needs down to their purest level. For example -"  
  
"For example, if I want to do research to cure lycanthropy and I drink the potion, it could show that my pure desire is to help Remus, or that my desire is to become a famous healer," said Hermione. "It could be very useful in assisting people in understanding their desires, wants and needs. I think it could also be helpful for married couples as they could simplify their emotions to the purest level for communication purposes. We don't always understand why we do things or why we want things, but with the potion, it should make things clearer."  
  
"Perhaps Chaucer should have called it a clarity potion," said Snape, softly from the sink.  
  
The potion masters finished cleaning up and returned to hover together over the cauldron, quietly discussing the potion for a moment. Watching them, Harry thought that perhaps, just perhaps, Dumbledore knew exactly what he was doing by sending them here together.  
  
"So, Hermione the slut and Snape the sex god," began Harry, still grinning. "There is a great Muggle pub just down the road a bit. Why don't I take you two there to celebrate your arrival in Canterbury. They have karaoke."  
  
Hermione laughed. Snape looked confused.  
  
"Kar-eye-okie?" he queried.  
  
"Trust me, you'll love it," said Harry, green eyes flashing.  
  
In no time at all, the misfit trio was ensconced in a cozy corner booth at the pub eating a greasy and filling dinner of fish, chips and a couple of onion poles. When the evenings "entertainment" began, Snape almost ran screaming from the place when the first "singer" took to the makeshift stage in the corner. The little redhead apparently thought she sounded just like Pat Benatar, however, Snape thought she rather resembled a cat caught in the Cruciatus curse.  
  
"Exactly WHY do they let these people get on stage and sing, Mr. Potter?" he asked.  
  
"Drink some more, Snape, and you'll understand."  
  
Snape shook his head and looked at Hermione, who seemed to be enjoying the aural torture. He went to the bar and purchased a round of beer and whiskey shots. Then it was Potter's turn to buy, then Hermione's. By the time Snape had to return to the bar and buy a round, he was beginning to relax and enjoy snickering at the idiots on stage. And by the time Hermione bought her second round and made her way back to the table, Snape was laughing so hard that tears streamed from his eyes. She looked at him questioningly and all he could do was point. The poor miscreant on the stage attempting to sing his way through "Stand By Your Man," was none other than the hero of the wizarding world, Harry Potter.  
  
Hermione nearly fell into Snape's lap when she heard the horrible warbling coming from her friend's mouth. After Harry returned to the table, he tried for one final round to get Hermione or Snape to sing something terribly embarrassing - he suggested "It's Raining Men" to the professor - but to no avail. Once the round was consumed, the trio headed to the cottage where Hermione and Snape unsteadily checked their potion. Then Snape shoo'd them from the kitchen and whipped up omelets and a fresh pot of tea. They settled in for a makeshift picnic in the sitting room.  
  
"I do believe I needed that," said Hermione, still chuckling as she tucked into her midnight snack. Snape nodded in agreement and reached across the coffee table to take her hand and lightly squeeze it.  
  
"I did, too. It's been difficult working with you all these months, Hermione," Snape confessed, quietly. "I needed to blow off some steam, as it were, if I had to work with you all week. So, thank you Mr. Potter. I think you've helped us quite a bit, much as I am loathe to admit it."  
  
Harry only toasted the pair with his cup of tea and continued eating silently from his position on the floor.  
  
"So, when will the potion be complete?" he asked.  
  
"Five days," answered Hermione and Snape in unison. They looked at each other and smiled briefly.  
  
"Think you guys can keep from killing each other for five days?" Harry asked. "Or do I need to come baby sit you every night."  
  
"We'll be fine, Harry."  
  
"But, thank you for the offer, Mr. Potter."  
  
The pair looked at each other drunkenly but intensely. Harry just smiled at them both. A bit more conversation and a quick magical washing of the cottage's mismatched dishes, and Harry announced that it was far past his bedtime and time to leave. Hermione and Snape walked him to the door. With a hug to Hermione and a firm handshake to Snape, Harry exited the door and swiftly apparated away.  
  
Hermione shut the door and leaned against it, rather enjoying the way the room swayed when she closed her eyes. She felt, rather than saw, Snape leaning his tall form next to her against the doorframe.  
  
"Merlin," she sighed. "I didn't think he was ever going to leave."  
  
"Me, either."  
  
They both leaned silently for a moment, savoring the softly waving motion of the room.  
  
"Bed?" Snape asked, suddenly.  
  
"Yes. Bed would be good." Hermione replied. Her eyes never opened but she smiled softly as Snape picked her up and carried her across the cottage to the bedroom and gently laid her on the pink and yellow covered bed. 


	6. Chapter five

CHAPTER FIVE  
  
"Virginitee is greet perfeccioun,  
  
And continence eek with devocioun.  
  
But Crist, that of perfeccioun is welle,  
  
Bad nat every wight he sholde go selle  
  
Al that he hadde, and gyve it to the poore,  
  
And in swich wise folwe hym and his foore.  
  
He spak to hem that wolde lyve parfitly,  
  
And lordynges, by youre leve, that am nat I.  
  
I wol bistowe the flour of myn age  
  
In the actes and in fruyt of mariage.  
  
from The Wife of Bath's Prologue"  
Hermione cracked an eye and snapped it shut immediately as the cheerful morning sunlight blasted her retina. She groaned and rolled over, encountering a lump of pink and yellow comforter. Peeking at the lump, her first thought was that Snape actually looked good in pastels. 'Who would have guessed?' Her second thought was the realization that she was in bed with Snape.  
  
"Damn!" she swore and swiftly sat up. The room swirled most unpleasantly and she lurched as she felt last evening's midnight snack rise in her throat.  
  
'Oh, fuck, that was a mistake,' she thought as she raced to the bathroom. Moments later, a groaning and squinting Snape joined her in the bathroom. Barely noticing her form crouched over the toilet, he moved to the sink and turned the cold water on full blast - splashing his face over and over with the icy water.  
  
"Please tell me you have some hangover relief potion, Snape," she whimpered. "I may die if you don't."  
  
"I don't," his ragged and rough voice replied, in between splashes. "And you're not dying yet -- you have to help me kill Potter first. This is his fault; he dragged us to that pub."  
  
"Ah, yes," was all Hermione could manage before she had to shove her head back into the stool in order to neatly relieve her stomach of more whiskey and omelet. Snape wiped the wet strands of raven-dark hair from his face and grabbed a rough pink wash cloth from a nearby beribboned basket. Soaking it, he held it in front of Hermione's flushed and splattered face. He then stumbled to the living room and tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace, carefully mumbling a few words to what sounded like Dumbledore. In the back of her mind, Hermione vaguely wondered when the cottage had been placed on the Floo network - but those thoughts were soon lost as she felt bile rising again.  
  
"Dammit, Snape, quit chatting and get some potion from the old bastard," she muttered to herself and the toilet as she flushed for the third or fourth time.  
  
"Your wish is my command, my lady," said an improved and chipper silky voice. She dared to look up and saw a vial floating blissfully above her head. She took it and chugged gratefully. As her head cleared she focused on a new pink washcloth being dangled in front of her face. "You appear to still have a low tolerance to alcohol, my dear."  
  
She looked up at him with a glare and was surprised to see him grinning at her. He held out his hands and helped her up.  
  
"I believe you need a nice, cool shower, if my memory serves," he said, turning her and easing the zipper of her dress down. "I'll go fix you some nice toast."  
  
She nodded as he grasped her sleeves and began to pull her dress down to her waist. As he removed her bra he paused to place a soft kiss on an exposed shoulder. She smiled softly as she recalled his rather demanding kisses from the night before - 'Wait,' she thought, 'He's undressing me? I'm still dressed?'  
  
She turned to Snape and forgot to be embarrassed as his gaze unashamedly dropped to her bare breasts. For the first time, she noticed that he was still dressed, as well - although his shirt was open and missing more than a few buttons.  
  
"What exactly happened last night, Snape?"  
  
He shot her an unfathomable look and gently turned her around. He continued to undress her soundlessly for a moment.  
  
"If I recall correctly, I carried you into the bedroom after Harry left," he said.  
  
"And then?"  
  
"And then we - well, we kissed and you did serious damage to my shirt," he said, as her dress and half slip hit the floor. "I also believe you left a few bite marks on my chest."  
  
"And?"  
  
"That's it. You fell asleep after we'd been in bed for about 15 minutes," he said wryly, bending to remove her underwear in a businesslike manner. He quirked an eyebrow at her as he turned her to face him once again. "You fell asleep mid-kiss, in fact. And I do believe at the time I had my hand in a place that used to make you - shall we say, scream? So, I'm trying not to let it affect my manly self-esteem, but I'm afraid it might be irreparably damaged."  
  
Hermione couldn't restrain a chuckle at his trademark sarcasm.  
  
"In fact, if I am never able to have sex again, I will most certainly blame you, Miss Granger," he said. Snape stepped past the now-nude woman and turned on the shower to a gentle and cool spray. He gestured for her to enter and stepped back with a small smile.  
  
"Thanks, Severus," she said, smiling shyly back before stepping under the water. "And, although I am sorry I didn't - um, follow through last night; it is probably for the best. Don't you think?"  
  
"I do not." The smile vanished and the icy mask fell instantly.  
  
"Well, I -"  
  
"Enjoy your shower, Hermione." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked from the bath.  
  
'Well, that went well,' she mused as she pulled the shower curtain closed.  
  
'That was a complete and total toss-up,' thought Snape as he went to the kitchen. He checked their gently simmering potion and moved to the stocked refrigerator to search out an appropriate breakfast. His stomach could withstand just about anything, but he knew from experience that Hermione didn't recover as quickly as he did. He still remembered a terrible weekend spent in his quarters when she had stomach flu her seventh year - none of his potions could ease her upset stomach. Shaking his head, he sent out a silent prayer for the unlucky chap that wound up being her husband and seeing her through a pregnancy. Pulling out some fresh fruit and butter, he located the bread and proceeded to plate some sliced fruit and make toast.  
  
When Hermione arrived in the kitchen, he gestured to a plate of toast and sliced peaches and held her chair as she sat. He then silently left to take his own shower. She nibbled a bit and retired to the sitting room with her copy of the Tales. Concentrating on the General Prologue, she tried for the millionth time to pull Chaucer's code from the text and solidify it into a useable incantation. She could damn near see the incantation in the words, but for some reason they could not be clarified no matter how she attempted to decode them.  
  
"Having troubles?" queried a much neater and less disheveled Severus Snape as he came to sit beside her. He was buttoning his cuffs and his hair was still damp and falling around his face as he leaned to glance at her notes.  
  
"Yes, I know it's here. It's as if it were on the tip of my tongue, but I can't grasp it, you know?" she said, frustrated.  
  
"I know. Here, let me have a crack at it, I have fresh eyes," he said, holding his hand out for the book. She handed it to him, along with her notes and leaned back against the pillows of the sofa to watch him concentrate. He repeatedly shoved his hair from his eyes and his lower lip pouted further and further out as he pursed his lips in thought.  
  
'He looks like a little boy when he does that,' she mused with affection.  
  
After some time spent watching her former lover and current colleague, she rose to check the potion and add the next round of ingredients. She then settled back next to him on the couch and picked up the sheath of notes he had written. An indeterminate time had passed before he let his breath out with a decided whoosh and tossed the heavy tome to the coffee table with a loud thud.  
  
"Lunch."  
  
"Lunch?" she echoed, stretching.  
  
"Yes, and no greasy pub food this time. I seem to remember a nice French eatery in the middle of the wizarding shopping district. Sound good?" he said, standing and moving to the bedroom in search of a light coat.  
  
"Sounds great."  
  
They walked the short distance to the small wizarding area and ate a delightfully light lunch while watching the local witches and wizards walk by. Deciding to take a break, they strolled the length of the high street and spent a bit of time exploring a dusty bookstore together. After paying for several volumes that he couldn't resist, Snape offered Hermione his arm and they leisurely walked back to their cottage, looking - to the casual observer - like a couple on their honeymoon.  
  
The good will extended into the late afternoon as the pair watched their potion bubble softly and poured over the same lines of the General Prologue over and over. Both knew they were on the verge of discovery, but it was slow coming. They were once again interrupted by a knock at the door around dinnertime. Snape went to answer it this time.  
  
"Mr. Potter, have you come to help us drink ourselves into yet another stupor?" he asked acerbically.  
  
Harry grinned and shook the older wizard's hand.  
  
"Nope. Actually, I was wondering if I could steal Hermione away for the evening. There is a Muggle movie on at the cinema that I thought she would like," he said, as he walked into the sitting room. "I'm assuming it wouldn't interest you, Professor?"  
  
"It would not."  
  
"Hermione, what do you say?" he asked.  
  
Hermione's gaze flew from Snape to Harry and she tried to decide what to do. She hadn't seen Harry in months and she desperately wanted out of the stuffy cottage again. But then again, she and Snape had somehow reached a truce of sorts and she did not want to disturb it by leaving. She shot a pleading look at Snape.  
  
"Hermione, if you want to go, go," Snape said. "I'm no longer your teacher or your lover, you don't have to acquire my permission, you know."  
  
"I don't want to leave you alone -" she began.  
  
"Believe it or not, I do have friends outside of Hogwarts," Snape interrupted. "In fact, a classmate of mine lives near the center of town, perhaps I shall go visiting tonight. Go have dinner and see the movie with Harry. I'll be fine."  
  
Hermione smiled and organized their notes and work, placing the information into a warded bag, before heading to the half bath to freshen up her makeup and change her clothing. Snape nodded at Harry then walked to the fireplace and tossing in a handful of Floo powder. "Sylvia Bailey," he called.  
  
Harry watched with interest as a pretty blonde woman in a black Muggle turtleneck jumper appeared in the green flames. He was startled to see that the woman was very pretty and turned suspicious eyes on Snape.  
  
"Severus! How are you?" she asked, smiling. She then peered past his image to notice the flowered sofa and feminine décor. "Please tell me you aren't somehow trapped in a whorehouse and need rescuing? Or did you finally marry and she has a predilection for pink?"  
  
Snape uncharacteristically stuck his tongue out at the woman.  
  
"No. I'm trapped in honeymoon hell with a colleague. We needed to be in Canterbury to create a potion, it seems the location is built into the incantation somehow. So, I'm here at -"  
  
"The Michell Estate cottages?" she asked, bursting into laughter. "Is your hot tub red?"  
  
Snape glowered at her and shifted uncomfortably. "Yes."  
  
"And let me guess, there are flavored body paints in the nightstand drawer?"  
  
"Yes. Yes, Sylvia," he said, blushing slightly. The woman giggled in response. "Sylvia, I have the evening free and wondered if you would allow me to escort you to dinner?"  
  
She smiled at him and nodded. In a moment, she had stepped through the flames and enfolded Snape in a tight hug. Hermione, of course, chose that moment to reenter the sitting room. She narrowed her eyes at the stylish and pretty woman that was obviously near Severus' age, however she took a deep breath and smiled when Snape made the introductions.  
  
The two couples made small talk for a few moments before warding and cloaking their potion, locking up the cottage and heading their separate ways. Hermione insisted repeatedly that she was fine with Snape's "date" and became annoyed at Harry when he asked her about it for the 13th time in the middle of the movie.  
  
"Does he know you still love him?" asked Harry, after the film as they walked slowly back to a concealed apparition point.  
  
"No. Harry, stop it."  
  
"Hermione, I really think you need to rethink your decision," he said. "Try dating him again. You looked positively jealous when she stepped out of the Floo."  
  
"I did not."  
  
"You did, too."  
  
"Well, did you see her hug him? Sheesh. And she didn't even get dirty in the Floo!" Hermione stormed.  
  
Harry laughed. They apparated. Moments later they had walked the short distance to the front door of the cottage.  
  
"Do me a favor, Hermione?" he said. "I still think it's completely gross, but if you love the old bat, then at least talk to him tonight. Maybe you can work things out."  
  
"Harry, unless you can magically make him my age, then I don't think things will work out," she replied.  
  
"Why is that an issue? You know how old wizards can live to be?" Harry asked.  
  
"It just is. I can't explain it. But I promise to talk to him when I see him."  
  
"As soon as he gets in tonight?"  
  
"Yes, yes, as soon as he bloody well gets in tonight - now go!"  
  
Hermione opened the door as Harry apparated home. She gasped when she saw the destroyed living area and damaged contents from their suitcases. It looked a lot like Harry's room the night Ginny Weasley trashed it their second year. She dashed into the kitchen to see if the cauldron was still cloaked and warded. It was, thankfully, untouched. Whoever had destroyed their living quarters was unable to break the wards or perhaps was even a Muggle thief. She shook as she poured a glass of champagne from the ample supply in the refrigerator and Reparo'd enough of the couch to sit on while she waited for Snape's return.  
  
It was nearing six o'clock in the morning when she finally realized he was not coming back. 


	7. Chapter six

CHAPTER SIX  
  
Whilom ther was dwellynge in my contree  
  
And erchedeken, a man of heigh degree,  
  
That boldely dide execucioun  
  
In punysshynge of fornicacioun,  
  
Of wicchecraft, and eek of bawderye,  
  
Of diffamacioun, and avowtrye,  
  
Of chirche reves, and of testamentz,  
  
Of contractes and of lakke of sacramentz,  
  
Of usure, and of symonye also.  
  
The Friar's Tale  
**  
  
Hermione was asleep on the Reparo'd sofa when Snape entered the cottage around eight in the morning. His eyes grew wide as he observed the destruction in the small space and his heart stopped beating when he saw Hermione lying still and curled up facing away from him on the sofa. It took him several minutes to compose himself and make his way to her side - as he was convinced that she had been killed hours before and there was nothing he could do but grieve. If it weren't for the very unSnapelike tears in his eyes, perhaps he would have seen her very gentle, relaxed breathing. Instead, kneeling beside her quiet form, he reached out one hand and allowed it to hover several inches above her shoulder.  
  
"Hermione?" he whispered. "Merlin, Hermione, love, are you -"  
  
He lowered his hand onto his own thigh and took a deep, shuddering breath.  
  
"Hermione?" he said, a bit louder.  
  
Waking with a small start, Hermione groaned and turned over to look at him.  
  
"Severus? Oh, thank God, are you all right?" she said, hastily scrambling from the sofa and kneeling next to him on the floor. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. After a stunned moment, he returned the hug and was surprised to find himself now crying in earnest.  
  
"Severus? What is wrong? Severus, talk to me please?" Hermione sat back and brushed a pair of tears from his cheeks. "Severus, love?"  
  
The endearment was his undoing. He roughly grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to his chest. They sat, holding each other, for some time - until Snape's tears and Hermione's worry subsided. Snape broke the embrace and captured her face in his hands, taking her lips in a rough and desperate kiss.  
  
"Gods, Hermione, I thought you were dead," he growled harshly against her parted lips. "The cottage - and you were so still -"  
  
He brushed her lips with a gentle kiss and pulled her close once again. "Are you sure you are all right, love?"  
  
"I wasn't here when all of this happened, Severus. I'm fine, really. And the potion is fine, too. I think it was a Muggle, they didn't manage to get past the wards and the cloaking on the cauldron," she said into his shoulder.  
  
Snape sat back and looked at her, confused.  
  
"Hermione, the cottage had a standard anti-Muggle ward on it," he said. "No Muggle could have gotten in without a wand and basic wizarding knowledge."  
  
"A squib, then?"  
  
"Perhaps." The thought was unnerving. Suddenly, they realized that they were still sitting on the floor, cuddled into a tight ball. Snape rose and offered Hermione a hand up. She took it and then led him to the kitchen. The potion sat merrily bubbling away.  
  
"Well," said Snape. "Perhaps we should take care of the next step and then we can deal with this mess and the ramifications. I'll need to contact Dumbledore and possibly the Aurors."  
  
"Aurors?"  
  
"Yes, it would appear that someone is interested in our potion."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Hermione, think about the potential Dark uses for it. If a married couple could use it to pare down their emotions, etc., to the barest purest level, then it could also be used as a form of truth serum - one that targets emotions and desires rather than actions or facts. A wizard could then be persecuted for an emotional response or feeling, rather than an action or crime. Or, if another Voldemort were to rise, true loyalty could be put to the test. Voldemort could have used a potion such as this to discover the spies in his ranks," he said. Hermione's eyes widened and he simply nodded. "You don't think that way, I know. I still do."  
  
Hermione quietly turned to her potion and began adding the next round of complex ingredients to it. When she was finished, she heard the Aurors come through the fireplace and begin to examine the cottage.  
  
"Hermione, love?" Snape said, entering the kitchen with Dumbledore. "We've been asked to leave the cottage while they investigate. Let's go find an early lunch, shall we?"  
  
Hermione nodded and walked towards the two men, first hugging the old Headmaster tightly and thanking him for coming, before moving to lean against Snape's chest. He draped an arm around her comfortingly and smiled down at her.  
  
"Everything is going to be fine," he said. "Dumbledore will watch the potion for us while we're gone. When we get back, we'll answer some questions and then we can both finally get some sleep. Sound good?"  
  
Hermione nodded and allowed herself to be led from the cottage. They found a Muggle fast food restaurant not far away and they both indulged in greasy hamburgers, chips and surgary sodas. Hermione was nibbling at her hamburger when she noticed Snape's tired eyes.  
  
"No sleep last night?" she asked, wryly.  
  
"Not much," he replied warily. "You?"  
  
"No, Harry left me at midnight and I waited up for you," she said.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I assumed you would come home, check the potion and then go to bed," he said, sighing. "I should have Floo'd you to let you know I wasn't coming back, I'm sorry."  
  
She nodded and attacked her chips, barely noticing when Snape got up or when he came back with two hot fudge sundaes in his hands.  
  
"Here, the chocolate will do both of us good," he said.  
  
"I just bet you need it," she said, coldly.  
  
"What?" he said, a spoonful of runny fudge and ice cream half way to his mouth. He took the bite after a moment and set his plastic spoon down. "What are you talking about, Hermione? We have both had a bad morning."  
  
"Ah, but you had a good night," she said, scooting her chair back. "I didn't put out, so you found someone who would the next night, is that it?"  
  
He looked at her in disbelief. "Hermione, sit down and let's discuss this."  
  
"No, I think I'm going to go for a walk," she said, turning. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.  
  
"Hermione -"  
  
"Sod off. You left me all alone, Severus," she said. "What if they had still been at the cottage when I got home? I could have been killed, injured or kidnapped. You left me alone for - for your little blonde bit of stuff."  
  
"Blonde bit of stuff?" he retorted incredulously. "Are you referring to Sylvia or her daughter Diana? Or are you perhaps referring to Sylvia's husband, James? The whole family is blonde, if I remember correctly."  
  
Hermione was stunned, but at least had the good grace to look sheepish.  
  
"Family?"  
  
"Yes. Sylvia was in Slytherin with me in school, and James was a Ravenclaw a couple years ahead of me. Diana is their only child and my goddaughter; she will be attending Hogwarts next fall. For the record, since you appear to need one, I went to dinner with Sylvia and Diana and then we met up with James at their home. I told them about our awkward situation at the cottage and they offered to let me spend the night to clear my head," he snapped. "Sylvia was quite helpful, actually. I had felt prepared to face you today and have a long chat about us."  
  
"Severus, I -"  
  
"Not now, Hermione. Let's get through the next few hours, and then we can talk," he said, softly and releasing her arm. "I have some questions I need to ask you and some things I want to tell you. Shall we head back to the cottage and see what they've discovered?"  
  
"Yes, then sleep, please before World War Three," she said, looking nervous.  
  
"No World War Three, Hermione," he smiled. "Perhaps, however, we do need a better peace treaty."  
  
The small joke broke the tension and she smiled back as they stepped back to the table to clean up their mess. Snape muttered a stasis charm and put the lids onto their melting sundaes before picking them up. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him in amusement.  
  
"You and your desserts," she said, smirking. "That was always one of the few things I always wanted to rat you out about when we were together. I rather think Gryffindor house would have appreciated knowing that the evil Head of Slytherin was a closet sweets fanatic."  
  
"You tell and I'll personally hex you into a decade's worth of bad hair days," he retorted. "Or worse."  
  
Hermione tossed her still kinky hair over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes at him. He rolled his eyes as they left the restaurant and headed back to the cottage.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Yes, Hermione."  
  
"I'm - never mind."  
  
"What Hermione?"  
  
"I'm glad you didn't sleep with Sylvia."  
  
"So am I, I think her husband would be most displeased and I would be joining Peeves and the Bloody Baron floating through the hallways of Hogwarts," he said.  
  
"You know what I mean," she said, ignoring his attempt at playfulness and giving him a hard look. He looked into her eyes for a moment and then took her hand, kissing it as they walked in silence for a moment.  
  
"Yes, love, I know what you mean." 


	8. Chapter seven

CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
"This carpenter hadde newe a wyf,  
  
Which that he lovede moore than his lyf;  
  
Of eighteteene yeer she was of age.  
  
Jalous he was, and heeld hire narwe in cage,  
  
For she was wylde and yong, and he was old,  
  
And demed hymself, been lik a cokewold.  
  
The Miller's Tale (The carpenter's marriage)"  
  
**  
  
Hermione and Snape were stepping onto the front stoop of their rented cottage when they heard a voice behind them, calling their names.  
  
"Hey! Where have you guys been? Your Floo is blocked and I couldn't get in touch with you," said Harry, bounding up the walk and talking in a rapid fire. "When I couldn't make it last night, I thought you would appreciate being treated to lunch instead, Hermione. What is going on? Did you two decide to resume the shagging and close the Floo? You could at least have let my owl in this morning, you know. Although, that particular sight might just blind him for life --"  
  
Hermione and Snape slowly turned in unison, dropping their clasped hands and staring at the laughing young man in shock. Harry's bright smile immediately faded under their scrutiny.  
  
"Harry," enunciated Snape carefully, "you picked up Hermione last night, remember? I was here and you met my friend, Sylvia."  
  
"And then we went to dinner and a movie, Harry," said Hermione, looking as confused as she felt. "We didn't drink. What exactly did you do last night --"  
  
"No, no, no! I sent you an owl because I got called away for work," said Harry.  
  
Snape sucked in a noisy breath and let it out with a definitive whoosh.  
  
"I think we need to take this conversation inside," he said.  
  
Once the bewildered threesome stepped inside, Snape immediately dashed to the kitchen and came back nearly dragging Dumbledore. The Aurors had left and had apparently taken on the task of tidying up a bit, as the rooms appeared to be back in order. Snape gestured for them all to sit and conjured a bottle of brandy with four glasses. Hermione looked at him and then her watch before lifting her eyebrow to study his tense face.  
  
"It's barely the afternoon, Severus," she chided, as he poured the liquor.  
  
"Yes, but I have a feeling we're going to need it," he retorted. He handed round the glasses, gave Dumbledore a quick overview of what had happened before they had all left the cottage the night before, and then asked Harry to fill him in on his side of the events.  
  
" - and when I got home from my assignment early this morning, I tried to Floo you and got the wizarding version of a busy signal," finished Harry. "So I thought I'd come over and make sure you hadn't blown up the place. I don't understand -"  
  
"Someone decided to take your place last night, Harry," interjected Snape. "It's pretty obvious to me that someone is after the potion or simply doesn't want us to complete it. The only question is who? Tell me, did you go on an actual assignment for work last night? Or was that a ruse, as well?"  
  
"No, I got to the location and it was real. I did my um - thing, and came back to my flat in Canterbury as soon as the paperwork was complete," Harry replied.  
  
"Your 'um -- thing?'" sneered Snape.  
  
"Yes, my 'thing,' Severus," snapped Harry. "I'm an Unspeakable, dammit and I can't just go around telling Merlin and the world what I do."  
  
"So part of your assignment last night could have been to distract Hermione and get her out of our cottage?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Hermione, did Harry ever leave the table or the auditorium?"  
  
"Well, yes, he had to go to the loo a few times," Hermione said. "But Harry would never -"  
  
"He would if he were assigned to," Snape replied, leaning forward and locking eyes with her. "For what it's worth, I don't believe Harry would ever hurt you."  
  
"Gee, thanks, Snape," spat Harry. "Hermione, I didn't go out with you last night, I was working."  
  
"So you didn't apparate back here to trash this place as a warning to us? To throw us off our research?" Snape continued. "Will you take Veritaserum to prove it?"  
  
"Of course he would, wouldn't you, Harry?" interrupted Dumbledore, peacefully. "And, Severus, I can vouch for Harry's whereabouts last night. He most definitely was not in Canterbury."  
  
The foursome sat staring into their brandy for several minutes, attempting to draw conclusions - any conclusions - to the conundrum that faced them.  
  
"Polyjuice, Harry," Hermione suddenly whispered. She looked intensely at Snape as Harry tried to grasp her meaning. "That's how they did it."  
  
"No shit?" he asked, green eyes widening. Snape let out an undignified snort at the young man's response. Harry shot him a glare and continued: "But it only lasts an hour -"  
  
"I said you did seem to take a lot of bathroom breaks last night," she said, wryly. "At one point, I thought to ask you if you were pregnant, you were going so often to the loo."  
  
Harry shuddered. "Can you say 'Polyjuice man' or something and not 'you' when we talk about this? I wasn't there Hermione. It wasn't me."  
  
"We know that," said Dumbledore.  
  
"But, who would want to stop us from making this potion? It's not like it is a deadly weapon or a poison. It won't revolutionize anything. It will just help people think more clearly and put aside biases and extraneous thoughts," protested Hermione. "It just doesn't make any sense."  
  
"What did the Aurors say, Albus," queried Snape.  
  
"Not much. The wand used isn't registered and appeared to be made in France, thus questioning Ollivander isn't an option. Only the most simplistic of your wards and spells were broken - something a first year could have done fairly easily. And no Muggle evidence in the form of fingerprints was left behind either," he said. "It was a clean break-in, but it would appear that our culprit isn't very gifted with his wand."  
  
Harry nodded. "I was just going to ask if the potion itself survived, you didn't mention it."  
  
"It appears to be fine," said Snape, pouring another glass of brandy. "However, we should take into consideration that it could have been tampered with and proceed with the brewing with caution."  
  
"I agree," chimed in Hermione. "If someone could brew Polyjuice potion and kept up enough on reading potions research - well, I just have a hard time believing that it was truly a Squib. We should proceed as if it wasn't. Maybe 'Polyjuice man' left things as they were to throw us off their scent."  
  
Harry nodded again as Snape looked at her appreciatively.  
  
"Hermione could very well be correct," he said. "Harry, can you think of anyone that could have gotten close enough to you to get a hair sample?"  
  
"Tons of people, Professor," said Harry, looking at Snape without malice for the first time since they sat down. "I'm in and out of St. Mungo's on a monthly basis, it seems. Not to mention the little Hogwarts reunion last month -"  
  
"What reunion?" asked Hermione. "I didn't get an invitation."  
  
"Well, it was a bit of a - you see, it was -" stammered Harry, blushing.  
  
"It was a stag party for Charlie Weasley," interjected Snape, waving a hand dismissively. "A rather good one, actually, but obviously you wouldn't have been invited. Albus was kind enough to host the party for Charlie."  
  
"YOU went?" asked Hermione, incredulously.  
  
"I'm friends with Charlie, where do you think I get my dragon scales and supplies from?" asked Snape. "Hermione, I was at the wedding, didn't you see me there?"  
  
"Yes, yes, I did see you, but I just assumed it was a Hogwarts duty that Albus pushed on you," she replied. "Don't get me off track, here though - you went to a stag party."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I see."  
  
"If we could get back on the original 'track,' Hermione, I was saying that I was around many people that weekend," said Harry, grinning at her annoyance with Snape. "All the Weasley's were there, all the male professors, lots of former students."  
  
"Who?" asked Hermione, looking from Snape to Dumbledore and finally at Harry. They began listing off the men in attendance - mostly older students, but a few around their age, Oliver Wood, Seamus, Neville, Lee Jordan and others.  
  
"And then, of course, were the ladies," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Ladies." Hermione said flatly. "Do I want to know?"  
  
"Now, now, Hermione, you can't have a good stag party without dancers," said Harry, standing and going to the kitchen to rummage for a tin of cookies. He returned to see Hermione red-faced and Dumbledore trying very hard not to laugh. "Would it help if I promise to get you a stripper for your girlie stag night?"  
  
Hermione just glared at him and then returned her gaze to settle on Snape, who was looking uncomfortable. Finally, he stopped shifting in his seat and looked up.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Stop looking at me like that. Hermione, I did nothing wrong."  
  
"I know. Just hear this now," she said softly, leaning towards him. "IF we do reconcile and IF we ever decide to marry - you will NOT have strippers at your stag party, do you understand?"  
  
Snape tried very hard not to crack a grin at her serious face and tone.  
  
"Yes, Ma'am. The same goes for you, however. At my age, I don't think I need my young fiancé looking at younger, muscled and handsome men the night before our wedding."  
  
Dumbledore suddenly rose and clapped his hands.  
  
"Well, I think it's time for us to take our leave, Harry," he said. "These two have some potion-brewing to deal with."  
  
"And some shagging," interjected Harry.  
  
"HARRY!" Snape and Hermione snapped in unison.  
  
Harry put his hands up in surrender and backed into the fireplace after Dumbledore. "Just invite me to the wedding, all right?"  
  
And then he was gone. They were alone.  
  
"Well."  
  
"Well."  
  
"Potion or The Talk?"  
  
"Potion first."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Then dinner. Then talk."  
  
"Deal." 


	9. Chapter eight

CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
"This mayde of age twelf yeer was and tweye,  
  
In which that Nature hadde swich delit.  
  
For right as she kan peynte a lilie whit,  
  
And reed a rose, right with swich peynture  
  
She peynted hath this noble creature,  
  
Er she were born, upon hir lymes fre,  
  
Where as by right swiche colours sholde be.  
  
And Phebus dyed hath hir tresses grete,  
  
Lyk to the stremes of his burned heete;  
  
And if that excellent was hir beautee,  
  
A thousand foold moore vertuous was she. "  
  
From the Physician's Tale.  
  
***  
  
The potion was nearing completion, two days later, and Hermione and Severus had still not had their talk. After Harry had left, they had begun their work on the potion and spent some time speaking about the potential properties of it. It was somehow decided before dinnertime, by an unspoken agreement, that they would leave their "chat" until the potion was ready.  
  
Their days had been spent in comfortable silence and subtle affection. The words "love" and "darling" frequently accompanied requests such as "pass the test tube," and both nights had found the pair curled up together in front of the fireplace as they read and reread the General Prologue to pry the incantation from Chaucer's words. Finally, they thought they had it correct.  
  
Severus' pronunciation that the incantation was complete was met with a joyful woop from Hermione. He arched a professorial eyebrow at her and shook his head.  
  
"How old are you exactly?" he said, wryly.  
  
"You know how old I am," she retorted. "You're just a spoilsport, old man."  
  
He just grumbled in response and swatted her behind with their notes as she dashed across the room to activate the Floo and notify Albus.  
  
"Hermione, that's wonderful! I just knew you and Severus would make a great team on this project!" enthused the old wizard, after she filled him in. "You two should go and celebrate tonight. Have dinner, some champagne, go dancing!"  
  
"We can't leave the cottage, Albus, remember?" queried Snape as he strolled to stand next to Hermione. "Unless you have an Auror handy that would like to potion-sit, we are stuck."  
  
"I think I can handle that. One Auror coming your way," twinkled Albus. "I suggest that you go get dressed."  
  
Albus closed the connection and Hermione smiled, grabbed Severus by the hand and dragged him to his bedroom. She went to his trunk and pulled out a pair of well-worn Muggle blue jeans and a black oxford. She handed them to him and then went into the bathroom to dig through her trunk. Another pair of blue jeans and a soft, cashmere sweater set emerged. Soon, both were freshened up and dressed and waiting to leave. A knock at the door turned out to be an Auror neither knew, so they gave him a quick briefing on the situation and the potion before leaving.  
  
They had apparated into London and consumed mass quantities of pizza and beer before Severus won the play vs. dancing argument and took Hermione to an avant garde fringe production of Twelfth Night that was being performed in a former butcher shop. Hermione had been reluctant to go, however, she was amazed once again by her former lover and his varied interests and tastes.  
  
"I can't believe that I liked that," she said, as they walked hand-in-hand afterwards. "That was completely weird and I think Shakespeare is spinning in his grave, but that was interesting. Do I want to know how a Slytherin knows about fringe Muggle theatre?"  
  
"I'm a renaissance man," he said, quirking an eyebrow saucily at her. "Just because I'm a fairly serious scholar doesn't mean I can't appreciate a production like that - something that operates completely outside the box. And just because I'm a pureblood doesn't mean that I can't appreciate the joys of the Muggle world."  
  
"Will I ever know you completely, Severus?"  
  
"Someday, *if* you decide that is what you want, I think you might," he said, turning serious. "Remember, witches and wizards live a long time - we'd have at least a hundred years to get to know each other completely, Hermione."  
  
"I know, but -" she stopped and shook her head, clenching his hand hard.  
  
"What is it, love?" he asked.  
  
"I know that our age difference isn't a big deal because of how long wizards live," she started breathlessly. "And I know that many Muggles are married with 15, 20, or more years of age differences and it is accepted, but -"  
  
"But, what, Hermione?"  
  
"But, if I'm going to live so long, and you're more than 20 years older than me -" she stopped again and gave him a small, teary smile.  
  
"Then that's 20 years you'll be alive after I die?" he asked softly, beginning to put some pieces of the years-old puzzle together.  
  
"Yes, that's 20 years or more that I'll be alive and mourning you after you die. I'm not sure I can handle it," she confessed, feeling rather relieved.  
  
He stopped walking and clasped her other hand as they apparated jointly back to the cottage's front door. She reached for the doorknob and he gently stopped her with a soft touch of his hand.  
  
"Hermione, I admit that this issue has crossed my mind more than once, too," he began. "I don't like to think that someday I'll have to leave you. And leave you alone for many years. But I always believed that the years we'd have together would make the years apart worthwhile and -"  
  
He paused and chewed his lower lip uncharacteristically. She smiled sympathetically.  
  
"I thought I was the one who couldn't complete a thought today, Severus?" she quipped and smiled. He didn't smile back and kept his serious expression. He dipped his head down to dance a soft kiss across her lips before taking a deep breath and continuing his line of thought.  
  
"I always believed that the years we'd have together would make the years apart worthwhile and I always assumed that you would have our children and grandchildren around to comfort you," he said, looking away. "I found comfort in that fact, Hermione. I assumed it would be enough."  
  
"I hadn't thought about our children or brought them into the equation," she said, turning his face and forcing him to meet her gaze. "But I will. And, it might be enough, I don't know yet. I promise to think about it and -"  
  
"And," he interrupted, "we should probably finish this discussion tomorrow, after the potion is ready."  
  
She nodded, opened the door, and they greeted the nameless Auror -- whom Severus was sure had listened to their entire conversation. After he left and the potion had been attended to, the pair flopped down on the sofa with cups of tea in hand and quietly discussed the plans for testing the potion the next day. An hour later, Severus set his cup on the coffee table and sighed contentedly.  
  
"Well, I should probably go to bed and let you settle in for the night out here," he said, stretching his long legs out underneath the table. "We have a difficult day ahead of us tomorrow - academically and emotionally, I'm sure."  
  
"Yep." She replied. He began to rise and she took his arm pulling him closer to her on the sofa. She hugged him tightly. After a few moments in her arms, he tentatively moved to kiss her. Then he kissed her again. And again. Their kisses quickly deepened and she perched on his lap, running her hands through his hair and breathing heavily. Severus mused that at least there were no issues in the physical intimacy side of their relationship or former relationship or whatever she wanted to call it. She slipped her tongue across his lips and as he parted them for her entrance, he swiftly decided that he didn't care. The future be damned, she was in his arms and he was kissing her, that is all that matters, he thought.  
  
Hermione didn't know how long she had sat on Severus' lap, simply kissing him until they were both breathless. An hour? Two, maybe? It was only when his hand finally dropped from her waist to slide from her knee to her inner thigh that she shuddered and broke their embrace.  
  
"Not yet," she panted. "I'm sorry, I probably led you on. I think this is what I want, but I'm just not prepared. Maybe if --"  
  
"No, no, its fine, Hermione. You didn't lead me on, no promises were made. I just couldn't resist touching you," he sighed. "I'm sorry if I pushed you. Again. It seems like I'm always pushing you."  
  
"Maybe we should end this little snogging session and call it a night," she suggested.  
  
"Snogging session?" he said, affecting a rather phony sneer. "Miss Granger, Snapes do not 'snog.'"  
  
She laughed in response and rose from his lap, holding out a hand to assist him.  
  
"Well then, you're still very good at 'not snogging,' Professor Snape," she teased. She went up on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. "'Til tomorrow."  
  
"Tomorrow, Hermione," he said, formally kissing the back of her hand before going to the bedroom and closing the door behind him.  
  
***  
  
The next morning, Hermione woke early to chapped lips and a bit of stubble burn on her chin. She grinned when she remembered the evening they had spent together and for the first time, thought she was actually looking forward to testing the potion.  
  
And today was to be the first test of Chaucer's potion, she remembered as she stumbled from her makeshift bed on the sofa and to Severus' bathroom for an early morning shower. What a better way to test it, she thought, than on two people that can't seem to connect? I do love him despite all our issues, she mused. But do I want forever and do I want it with him?  
  
She stopped, halfway across the bedroom at that thought and turned to look at him. He was asleep, one pillow under his head, the other bunched and cuddled in his arms. A slight smile was on his face and he looked impossibly young and almost innocent.  
  
Hermione stared for a few minutes until he stirred and cracked one sleepy eye to look at her. They exchanged a small smile.  
  
"I thought someone was watching me," he said softly. "You don't spend years in the thick of a war without developing a second sense."  
  
He stretched and rearranged the pillows on the bed before snuggling into the covers a bit and returning her gaze.  
  
"I only wish I knew what you were thinking," he continued.  
  
"Honestly?"  
  
"Yes, unless you prefer to wait -"  
  
"I was thinking how young you looked when you slept," she blurted out. "You looked ten years younger, Severus."  
  
"I've had a rough life, Hermione, that ages people," he said, self- consciously running a hand through his tousled hair. "And I'm sorry that my age bothers you."  
  
"It -"  
  
"No, no, don't try to deny it," he said, waving a hand in dismissal. "I understand. And the fact that I look even older than I actually am is a deterrent, as well. I was young once, too, you know."  
  
"Your looks shouldn't matter to me."  
  
"But they do."  
  
"Yes." There, she said it. She took a deep breath and let it out in a forceful whoosh.  
  
"Feel better now?" he replied, one side of his mouth quirked up in a forced half-grin.  
  
"A bit."  
  
Hermione crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed, taking his hand.  
  
"I have missed you, Severus. I know we've been in touch due to my thesis and I know you have remained a part of my life, but -" she stopped, unsure what exactly she wanted to say. "But -"  
  
"Let's wait and drink the potion and see what Geoffery can do to help us think clearly, all right?" Snape interrupted.  
  
"All right. On one condition," she said.  
  
"You name it," he said, releasing her hand and leaning back against the headboard smiling gamely. "What shall it be, breakfast in bed? A go at the Jacuzzi? Or do I need to put up with Harry for another -"  
  
"You. I want you, Severus," she said.  
  
"Me?"  
  
"I don't want a potion leading my actions, Severus," she said, leaning to brush his lips with a soft kiss. "I want you. Please."  
  
Severus sat stunned for a moment before the shocked smile on his lips finally made the trip to his eyes. They softened and sparkled, just like she remembered, as he took her into his arms.  
  
"Hermione, love, are you sure about this?" he whispered against her lips.  
  
"I've always been sure about this, Severus, it's the future that scares me," she said, kissing her way to his ear.  
  
"To hell with the future," he growled and she suddenly found herself flipped and pinned underneath him. And suddenly, for a moment, the world felt right. 


	10. Chapter nine

CHAPTER NINE  
  
For thanne th'apostle seith that I am free,  
  
To wedde, a Goddes half, where it liketh me.  
  
He seith, that to be wedded is no synne,  
  
Bet is to be wedded than to brynne.  
  
What rekketh me, thogh folk seye vileynye  
  
From the Wife of Bath's Tale  
  
***  
  
They kissed for what felt like an eternity. Gentle kisses, nipping and feather light. Hermione wanted more and she squirmed out her frustration underneath him, only to have him chuckle against her lips. Raising up on his elbows, he grinned at her and shook his head.  
  
"After all the time you made me wait, and you're the one acting impatient?" he queried calmly. "I think that this morning *I* get to set the pace, my dear Miss Granger. Relax and enjoy the ride."  
  
Severus lowered himself back onto her form, but not before clasping her wrists and pulling them above her head with one strong hand. He grinned again and lowered his other hand to do a bit of exploration - over her clothing, which made Hermione grumble under her breath.  
  
'That rat bastard,' she groused, as his maddeningly gentle and slow-moving lips descended upon hers again. 'One of these days, I'm going to strip him, tie him up in his own dungeons and torment him all night long. I'm going to -" And that was where the musings of revenge stopped as Severus parted her lips with his tongue and slipped into her mouth. She gasped slightly and followed him as he deepened the kiss.  
  
Severus' exploration of her through her night clothing began slowly and ended what felt to Hermione like years later at a rather frenzied pace. Suddenly, he murmured a quick charm and their clothes shimmered from existence.  
  
The first moment of skin-on-skin contact hit them both like an icy downpour. They both shivered and sighed.  
  
"I have missed you, Hermione," he said softly and began his soft caresses once again.  
  
"And I know you probably won't believe me, but I have missed you, too," she said. "I haven't truly loved anyone but you, Severus."  
  
He looked at her in shock for a moment before shaking his head firmly and muttering "wait for the potion, right now just feel." She nodded and without any further discussion, he shifted to position himself between her legs. With a final look and a butterfly soft kiss, Hermione and Severus became lovers once again.  
  
Sometime later, still entangled on the rumpled sheets, their breathing slowed and their heartbeats finally retuned to a normal pace. Severus lifted his head from where he had buried it in her mass of curls and kissed her. Intensely and at his leisure, he once again explored her mouth, eventually sliding his hands from their position at her wrists above her head to gently caress her skin. After a moment or two, he reached for his wand on the nightstand and pointed it at her stomach.  
  
"Conceptio," he whispered. She nodded her thanks. "As much as I'd like to someday have a baby with you, Hermione, the potion we are going to take today has some potentially harmful ingredients. It's too great of a risk."  
  
She nodded again and drew him back to her arms. They existed like that in the afterglow for some time before he drew away and sat on the edge of the bed sighing. He looked at her lovingly, but with a certain sadness that nearly brought tears to Hermione's eyes.  
  
"What is it, Severus?"  
  
"I'm afraid."  
  
"Of what we'll find out when we try the potion?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
They sat silently for a few moments.  
  
"Severus, I do love you. I always have. I just -"  
  
"Have never envisioned your life with me in it."  
  
"No. I haven't."  
  
"Well."  
  
"Well."  
  
"Let's get on with it, shall we, love? You take your shower and I'll do the final step and make breakfast."  
  
She nodded and kissed his briefly as she stood and made her way to the bath. Turning at the door, she called: "Wear the new shirt I bought you, it's in the wardrobe." He nodded and smiled slightly in response. After she closed the door, he shook off all thoughts of the morning's activities. Then he performed a quick cleaning charm on himself and set his hair and beard to rights before throwing on a pair of jeans and searching out his new oxford shirt. He scowled a bit when he put it on. 'Pink,' he thought, disgusted. 'She *would* buy me a pink shirt. Thank Merlin no one can see me in it.' He ran a hand through his hair and went to the kitchen to get to work.  
  
In no time at all, Hermione had joined him and they were sitting down to breakfast. The potion bubbling merrily on the table between them seemed to burble an ominous tune and the buzz of the Muggle oven timer sounded like a death knell to the frightened couple, as it signaled the end of the potion's final phase. Silently, Severus poured them each a measured goblet and toasting each other, they drank.  
  
A moment passed.  
  
And another.  
  
Finally -  
  
"I don't feel any different."  
  
"Shit, neither do I, Severus." 


	11. Chapter ten

CHAPTER TEN  
  
Another moment passed.  
  
And another.  
  
And another.  
  
Then -  
  
"Well, hell, Severus. Ask me a question, maybe it works like Veritaserum."  
  
"Why does my age bother you so much?" he asked, cutting to the chase.  
  
"Because you are going to die and leave me mostly, we've discussed this. Does my age bother you?"  
  
"Yes, I'm terrified you are going to find a younger man and leave me."  
  
"Well, Severus, I have to be honest that I *did* leave you to find a younger man, I just didn't find one that I loved as much as I loved you."  
  
"Why do you need a younger man?"  
  
"I want the fairy tale, Severus. I want the white wedding gown and candlelight and roses and I want to be that 'nice young couple' that moved in down the block. I want to have a young husband."  
  
"You read too many romance novels as a child."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"Well, I don't understand it, but it does seem to be working," he said, after a few minutes pause and reflection. "You've never told me these things before."  
  
"I've never wanted to. I want you to understand, but then again my thoughts don't seem to have been purified or clarified," she said, sounding annoyed. "I mean, I thought that all the extraneous fears and issues would somehow -"  
  
"Just go away?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Me, too," he said. "I thought that all my anger and all the hurt would be wiped clean and I would just be left with how I feel about you."  
  
"I know, I thought the same thing - but I still feel like I want and need that white picket fence and the life I've always dreamed of. And that is in direct conflict with the fact that I have always been hopelessly in love with you. Dammit," she said. "Maybe the potion just affects our intentions? My intentions seem to be clearer and, well, purer, I guess."  
  
He stood and poured them each a fresh cup of tea, obviously deep in thought.  
  
"I think you are correct, Hermione. I feel the same way. Shall we continue our discussion?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
"Well, we've addressed my age. What else? I sense there is something else. I always did, even when we were together," he said.  
  
She hesitated then felt it was best to just say it: "I almost feel like my childhood was stolen."  
  
He reared back, shocked.  
  
"You weren't a child when we were together; you were 18, a young woman, Hermione."  
  
"It was a violation of the trust the school put in us -"  
  
"Meaning the trust the school put in me."  
  
"And, well, it was wrong. Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of it back then, Severus. Even the sneaking around - *especially* the sneaking around," she grinned. "But, think about it, it *was* wrong. You were my professor, I was your student. Even though I was of age -"  
  
"I still took advantage of you -"  
  
"Oh no, I don't mean that -"  
  
"But I did. You are right, Hermione. Please continue, I'm starting to understand some things."  
  
"And it was not just you, it was the whole thing -- Voldemort, the War, Harry. *Then* you. The combination of it all, it stole my innocence."  
  
He bristled for a moment before replying with a disgruntled: "I didn't steal your innocence, Viktor Krum did. Which, if I'm going to be honest, always bothered me. I don't know why. I was relieved at the time that I wasn't seducing a virgin."  
  
"Merlin! Do you have to take things so literally?" she stood and began to pace. "Well, if we're paring everything down to the purest level of honesty here - then, I should tell you that yes, you did."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I lost my virginity to you that day on the Quidditch pitch, not to Victor Krum when I was fifteen."  
  
He sat still, darkly staring at her rather dumbly for several minutes. She squirmed under his gaze and felt, crazily, like she was back in one of his classes.  
  
"You lied to me about something so important?" he said, finally.  
  
"I had such a crush on you and I didn't want you to think I was a child," she said. "God, Severus. You were an adult, a romantic and dashing figure. A war hero with a heart full of secrets and a dark past. The brightest man I ever met. The second most powerful wizard I knew. I thought you were so - Well, I didn't think I could be attractive to you. I still doubt it. I'll never be as mature or smart as you - you're so sophisticated. I'm just dumpy, geeky Hermione Granger. A kid.  
  
"You're a man. And I'm a kid," she finished dejectedly.  
  
"You're not a kid. You haven't been since the first time you helped Harry defeat Voldemort in your first year," he said, sighing and running a hand over his suddenly tired eyes. "Besides, you don't have to be as mature as I am, Hermione. Some men love younger women just like some women prefer older men. I feel this need to protect you, to watch you grow. I want that, Hermione."  
  
"I'm so sorry I lied to you."  
  
"And I'm sorry, Hermione. You were right; I took your innocence in every sense of the word. Dumbledore should have fired me. I would never have touched you, if I had known."  
  
"Yes, you would have. Eventually. And, despite everything, I'm glad we did. Even if, in retrospect, I was too young. We should have waited until after I graduated. I wasn't ready to be in a serious relationship back then."  
  
"So it's my fault?" he said, sighing and leaning back in the chair, fiddling nervously with his teacup.  
  
"It's *our* fault. After I saw you on the battlefield.you were so beautiful and courageous and I built you up to be this romantic hero. And you are, but you just weren't the one I had dreamed of for a life partner, if that makes sense. I guess I always saw you as a forbidden love - something I had to get out of my system before I settled down with my real husband. You were the type of lover I had dreamed about --"  
  
"Dreams and reality seldom mix well, Hermione."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I am sorry that I wasn't man enough to wait until you were truly a woman and ready for a serious relationship," he said. "And I'm sorry that I played a part in the destruction of your innocence and the loss of your last year of childhood. I have no excuse except that I loved you."  
  
"And I loved you. Despite the way everything turned out, I don't think I would change loving you, Severus," she said, taking his hand.  
  
"Thank you for that."  
  
"So where do we go from here? I have to say that I'm pretty upset this potion didn't just fix everything for us," she said, letting his hand go and leaning back in her chair. He laughed.  
  
"I know what you mean, Hermione," he said, chuckling still. "But it has allowed us to discuss all of this with 'pure' intentions, perhaps. This isn't pleasant but it isn't hurtful and we *are* clearing the air. And from what I've heard from you -- I'm not sure that I can be what you want. I'm just an old, broken man - old from too many wars - and not the young husband you want."  
  
They sat quietly for a few more moments. She didn't respond and rose to leave the room. He watched her walk into the front room and begin rummaging through her bookbag. Sighing, he realized the conversation must be over and he took their breakfast dishes to the sink - washing them the Muggle way in order to keep his shaking hands occupied and his heart from audibly breaking. He didn't hear her return or see her sit down at the table with a small box. He was startled when he turned with a wet dishcloth to wipe the crumbs from the table.  
  
"Why did you ask me to marry you? You had to know I wasn't ready, I was only eighteen," she said suddenly. He sighed and moved to clean the table, picking up the ring box she had placed on it to wipe toast crumbs away. He looked at it a moment before sitting it back down.  
  
"I knew, but I didn't want to lose you when you left to further your studies. We didn't have to marry right away, but I wanted -"  
  
"Security?"  
  
"Yes. Security, Hermione. I didn't want to lose you to some dumb young kid with more looks than brains and more stamina than - Well, someone like Harry. You did sleep with him after me, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes." She answered him softly and jumped when he tossed the dirty cloth at the wall above the sink and swore loudly. He walked to the counter and braced himself there for a moment, collecting himself after his outburst. Finally, he spoke.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And he wasn't you."  
  
"So what are you telling me, Hermione?" he said, turning to face her. "I need some finality."  
  
She toyed with the ring box again and opened it, examining the ring that was nestled inside.  
  
"I'm telling you that I wish we hadn't become lovers when I was still in school. That I wish we hadn't snuck around for a year and had to hide how we felt from everyone, because it was neither healthy nor normal. That I wish I could have stayed a child longer. I wish I hadn't lied to you about my virginity, because the lie affected our relationship even if you didn't understand it at the time. And that I wish you had never proposed to me."  
  
He glared at her a bit, but there was little malice or energy behind the action, just defeat.  
  
"So you wish we'd never had a relationship. Joy. I love this potion."  
  
"No, I just wish we had waited."  
  
"I see."  
  
"That's all in the past, Severus. We made mistakes, but -- we could try again, you know."  
  
"Do you really want to? What about the young husband and the white picket fence?"  
  
"Part of me still wants that, but I can't change the fact that I love you. Maybe being in a healthy relationship with you this time would change my marriage paradigm," she said.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Well, I'm not quite sure what to say, Hermione," he said.  
  
"Oh." They stared at each other for a few moments before Severus appeared to have come to a decision. He took a deep breath and spoke:  
  
"What about babies, Hermione?"  
  
"What about babies?"  
  
"I want one."  
  
"Well, I want more than one, Severus."  
  
"With me?"  
  
"Well, that would be preferable to hatching one."  
  
"Somehow, Hermione, I doubt that was a pure or clarified thought. The potion must be wearing off because your sarcasm is back," he said ruefully.  
  
"Well, you were the one who taught me to be sarcastic, so you should know," she joked and stood. She snapped the ring box shut and walked to Severus, handing it to him.  
  
"I think that you should have this back," she said. He looked confused for a moment. "I still want to try again. Don't worry; just because the potion is wearing off, I haven't changed my mind. But, I thought if we were going to start over, then someday you might like to propose to me again."  
  
He smiled and slipped the box in the pocket of his jeans. "I would like that, thank you." He paused and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "So, can I kiss you, or is that moving too fast?"  
  
"Kissing is good. More of what we did this morning is good," she said. He grinned at her.  
  
"Oh, thank Merlin. I was scared you were going to tell me -" and she cut him off with a kiss. Smiling against her lips, he relaxed into the kiss and embraced her. A few precious moments later, an explosion rocked their honeymoon cottage as the front door was blown from its hinges. Severus swiftly drew his wand and pushed Hermione behind him. Taking a defensive position, he waited for their visitor to enter the kitchen.  
  
A man in a worn Death Eater mask soon filled the doorway. His green eyes narrowed as he aimed a wand and a Muggle pistol at the pair.  
  
"Thank you very much for all of your hard work, I'll take that potion and all of your notes, please," said Harry Potter's voice. The normally-calm voice of the Unspeakable was shaky and a bit shrill. The Death Eater took a step forward, shaking his head as Severus reached behind him to wrap a protective arm around Hermione. Surprisingly, the Death Eater laughed behind his mask.  
  
"Don't worry, Snape. I won't shoot her. You - you greasy bastard -- I just might, if only to watch you bleed to death. But not her," he said. "Hermione, fill a couple of vials with the remains of the potion, please. You, stay where you are."  
  
Snape nodded at Hermione and she quickly complied, filling three vials and sat them on the table before cautiously waving her wand and whispering a charm. The man with the gun looked at her sharply and she held her hands up, saying: "Just a stasis charm, it's a volatile potion." He nodded and mumbled an out-of-place thanks. She backed away into Severus' protective grasp again. They watched silently as the Death Eater grabbed the vials and their notes, stuffing them into a large pocket of his robes.  
  
Moments later, he had backed out of the kitchen and they heard the faint "snick" that meant he had portkeyed away. 


	12. Chapter eleven

"Hermione?" said Severus, pulling her close. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."  
  
Snape walked slowly to the front door of the cottage and examined it's blown out hinges for a moment. He then walked to the fireplace, lighted a fire and used the Floo to call Dumbledore and the Aurors. He sat heavily down on the flowered sofa and looked at Hermione with a bewildered expression.  
  
"Harry bloody Potter."  
  
"It wasn't Harry, Severus," said Hermione, joining him on the sofa and taking his hand. "I'm sure of it. There was something - something off about his voice and the way he carried himself. It wasn't Harry. It was Polyjuice Man, I'm sure of it."  
  
Snape sighed as two burly Aurors came through the blown out door. One began taking readings with his wand while the other joined Hermione and Severus near the fireplace and asking them questions. About halfway through the interview, Hermione explained how she bottled the potion for "Polyjuice Man."  
  
"I bottled up as much as I could with the vials we had here," she said. "We had just finished testing it and had planned on at least one more trial with the batch, so we didn't have a lot of storage vials. There's still a few doses left in the cauldron now. Anyway, he wanted our notes as well, so I took a moment that he was concentrating on Severus - Professor Snape - and used a charm to conceal the real notes under recipes for my grandmother's traditional holiday dinner."  
  
Severus snorted and looked at her amusedly. "And what charm does that, specifically?"  
  
"Oh, it was one I created in my school days," smiled Hermione. "When you're friends with Harry and Ron, you can't leave notes about how you plan to defeat the evil Potions Master or Voldemort just lying around your dorm room. So I developed the charm, it works in a similar manner to the Marauder's Map, the original notes will reveal themselves if you say the password."  
  
"And what, praytell, is that?" the Auror asked, looking annoyed at their amused banter.  
  
"I love goosey gravy," said Hermione. She shrugged as both men chuckled. "Hey, who is ever going to think THAT is a password for top secret notes. Of course, now that you know Severus, I may have to alter my charm a bit. Can't have you reading my diary."  
  
The Auror shook his head and glanced at his notes.  
  
"And you say it was Harry Potter that took the vials and notes from you?" he asked. "I thought he was an Unspeakable-"  
  
"It was not Harry," said Hermione. "I've known him for years, and I can tell you, it was NOT Harry."  
  
"I, on the other hand, am not convinced it wasn't," said Snape. "I'm sorry Hermione, he was just a bit too concerned about your safety and a bit too nasty to me."  
  
"I see," said the Auror. "Well, I'm going to go assist in the wand-readings and then we will get out of your way and allow you to complete your day of trials on the potion."  
  
"Thank you," said Severus, looking pensively at Hermione. She looked back at him for a moment before speaking again:  
  
"It wasn't Harry."  
  
"I think it was."  
  
"Is that why you didn't hex him, even though you obviously could have? Because you thought it was Harry?"  
  
"Yes. That and I must admit that the Muggle weapon threw me off. And the fact that I don't think it has anything do to with the potion. I think it has everything to do with us. Our relationship bothers Harry," began Severus.  
  
"No, it doesn't. Harry and I aren't a couple, we've never been a couple," insisted Hermione. "We were just friends who had sex a few times. Things like that happen when you're both lonely, you know. "  
  
"I know. You know. I'm just not sure that Harry views it the same way," he said, rising as he noticed the Aurors preparing to leave. "Gentlemen, thank you for your assistance. Please keep us posted."  
  
"When will you be going back to Hogwarts, sir?"  
  
"We had planned to finish out the weekend here, actually," said Severus, shooting Hermione a questioning glance. She nodded, blushing, in confirmation. "But I should be at Hogwarts on Sunday evening, after dinner."  
  
"Both of you?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione answered, smiling and taking Severus' hand. "Both of us."  
  
The Aurors left and Severus turned and again shot Hermione a questioning look. "You're coming with me to Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yep. I need to spend a year as an apprentice. You need to let an apprentice work with you and take some grading off your shoulders so you can finish your Killing Curse potion research. We need to spend some more time together to make sure this is going to work. And I need to spend some quality time redecorating and expanding your quarters," she said, smiling and heading to the kitchen. A stunned Severus Snape was left gaping in her wake.  
  
"Excuse me? Did I miss something? Are we moving in together?" he said, following her.  
  
She looked up at him with mischievous eyes. "Well, officially? No. But, think about it, Severus - if I get my own rooms, how many nights per week will I spend there? Be honest."  
  
He grinned and grabbed her in a bear hug. "None, if I have my way. But I do think you should have your own rooms officially. As a bolt-hole for the fights that we are going to have and for your own privacy and sanity. And mine. This new-old relationship is going to take some getting used to."  
  
"Agreed." She smiled and kissed him briefly. "But I'm still going to start in on your quarters. You need at least two more bedrooms, another bath and we have GOT to do something about all that damned green."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am."  
  
The chuckled together but the levity of the moment was broken when they heard Harry Potter's voice calling to them from the living room. Snape tensed and drew his wand, but Hermione cocked her head to the side and listened intently before smiling and dashing to the fireplace.  
  
"Harry!" she said. "Did you hear what happened?"  
  
"Yes, and I got right on it. A source of mine in a renegade dark group thinks he knows who took the potion and where it is. We're going to apparate in with some Aurors soon, he said there was a meeting of some sorts. Do you want to come with us? It will be safe, I promise," said Harry. He looked from Hermione to Snape, who had protectively place his arm around her waist. "I won't let anything happen to Hermione, Severus, I promise you that."  
  
Snape and Hermione exchanged a quick glance and stepped through the Floo to Harry's office. Soon, they found themselves surrounded by Aurors and Unspeakables. The group joined hands and joint apparated to a deserted field.  
  
"Fuck!" swore Harry. "I knew we took too long to get here. If there is a next time, Snape, you call me first, not the Aurors."  
  
Snape ignored the angrily given orders and simply gave the young man a cold glare.  
  
"Over here!" called one of the Aurors. "I've found someone! He's still alive."  
  
The group made their way through a circle of smoldering ashes to a lump of black clothing that was moving jerkily. Two of the vials of Chaucer's potion lay broken and spilled on the ground next to it, and a white hand was clutching a torn piece of parchment. Hermione barely made out a few ingredients for pea salad on the paper as she drew closer. It was obviously what was left of her notes, as were the hot ashes.  
  
Harry knelt down with his wand drawn and pulled back the hood of the cloaked figure. He gasped and the rest of the men and Hermione immediately assumed a dueling position. Harry put his wand up his sleeve and gestured for everyone to relax, all the while shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
"It's okay, Professor, Hermione," he said, softly. "I don't think that he will be bothering you anymore."  
  
Harry sighed and sat down heavily on the ground next to the still-quivering lump. He took a deep breath and spoke:  
  
"Neville, why?" 


	13. Chapter twelve

"Neville?" said Hermione and Severus in unison. Then Snape looked a bit angry. Harry took the moment of stunned silence to wave off the Aurors.  
  
"Longbottom?" Snape then spat.  
  
They stepped closer to the black form only to find Neville Longbottom sitting, shaking from Cruciatious, holding broken glass from a vial and the singed notes. He looked up at the pair with apologetic and haunted eyes.  
  
"The purity potion, it doesn't make you pure," he stammered out, unable to hold their gaze for long. "It doesn't make you pure."  
  
"No," spat Snape. "It doesn't."  
  
"It deals more with intentions and personal clarity of thought," began Hermione, before Snape stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I thought it would. I risked everything to -" Neville stopped and dropped his head into his hands. "I was going to -"  
  
"Join the dark side? The death eaters are trying to rise again, you were going to help them weren't you, Neville?" asked Snape. "I understand now, you were going to deliver the potion to them, so they could find an antidote, weren't you?"  
  
"Yes. They had read about Hermione's research and thought the potion could be used to rid them of Dark Magic, or as a form of Veritaserum, no one was sure," sighed Neville. "Since I knew both of you and I was a lower rank member, I was asked to get a sample. I tried at the stag party to talk to you about it, Professor. But you just waved my questions off and recommended I never think about potions again. You know? You really are a bastard, Snape."  
  
Hermione gasped as Neville's voice rose to an angry and frustrated, venomous level. He looked from the ashes of notes and met her gaze.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I--I wanted to -"  
  
"To?" asked Harry softly.  
  
"To be someone."  
  
"And you stole a potion to do that?" spat Snape, beginning to pace. "How exactly does theft make you someone, Neville?"  
  
"I told them I took Hermione's notes and I made it myself," he said.  
  
"Ah," said Snape, bitterly, leaning down into Neville's tearstained face. "And how many cauldrons did you tell them you melted in the process?"  
  
"Severus!" Hermione interjected. "Back off -"  
  
"But he -"  
  
"Back off, Snape," she said. "I love you, but it's time to back off."  
  
Snape glared at his lover before throwing his hands up in defeat. Neville caught the exchange and stood to stalk to Snape's position. Harry cautiously drew his wand.  
  
"I was going to be allowed into the Inner Circle of the new Dark Lord," Neville said, glaring at Snape with some fire in his eyes. "You of all people should understand what it's like - and besides, with only a handful of poor NEWTS, it wasn't like I was going to get a real job. I'm working in a Muggle bookstore, peddling biscotti and coffee, Snape. I'm a nobody. I don't have a job, I don't have a beautiful woman and I don't have any of your talents and skills. You should count your blessings and --"  
  
"I'm sorry, Neville," Harry interrupted, dropping a heavy, restraining hand on the pudgy man's shoulder. "You need to calm down and then I have to take you in for more questioning."  
  
Neville nodded and stood straight so Harry could place him in a partial body bind and levitate him.  
  
"Snape? Do you and Hermione plan to press charges against him with the Ministry?" asked Harry. "If so -"  
  
"No, I think he's learned his lesson," said Snape; contemplatively but obviously still angry. "But the Ministry --?"  
  
"I'll handle the Ministry, Professor," said Harry. "I think with the bloody Boy Who Lived on his side, Neville may find himself on house arrest, wandless and broomless, for a year or two, but I think we can avoid Azkaban. Especially if he rats out the rest of the new Death Eaters for us."  
  
"Thank you," said Neville, to both men. He attempted a small smile at Hermione.  
  
"But where did you get the polyjuice, Neville?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Um, I broke into Snape's cupboard when I was at Hogwarts for the stag party. He has the base there and I just had to get a hair or two from Harry to complete it," said Neville. "It wasn't difficult, they were all drunk, and Snape -"  
  
Snape growled to interrupt and stalked closer to the young man, towering over him and glaring hotly. He then shook his head and turned away, sighing.  
  
"Neville. I don't think I need to lecture you like a first-year. I believe you know what you have done. When your sentence is over, owl me, and I'll talk to some friends of mine at a potions corporation about hiring you," said Snape.  
  
Neville looked at his former teacher in shock.  
  
"Me? I'm 'Explosion' Longbottom, remember?" he said, miserably.  
  
"Yes, I remember. And I still have some scars to remember it by. However, you were a savant of sorts in Herbology, if I recall correctly," said Snape, with a slight sneer. "I think I can find you an entry level position in their greenhouse division. Just don't blow anything up."  
  
"Yes, sir!" he said, grinning slightly now. He turned to Hermione and looked a bit timid. "Um, Hermione, did you and Snape work things out?"  
  
Severus' glare returned and was turned on Hermione with a burning intensity.  
  
"You TALKED to him about us?" Snape snapped. "God, Hermione! It's Neville Longbottom!"  
  
"But I thought it was Harry," she said, calmly. "Yes, Neville, we worked things out. We're probably going to be moving in together before the fall semester starts."  
  
"Wow, when is the wedding?"  
  
"A year or so, Longbottom. We don't want to rush things, do we, Hermione?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief before taking her hand and dropping a gentle kiss on her palm.  
  
"No, after all, we do have many years ahead of us," she replied. 


	14. Epilogue

It was a bright afternoon, when Snape awoke from his nap. He stretched his lanky, full length out on the bed and pushed a graying lock of hair from his eyes. Years ago, he mused, a nap would have been an unnecessary luxury.  
  
But, now?  
  
'Now, it's a necessary means of escape,' he laughed. Sitting up and attempting to gather his thoughts, the noise from outside his bedroom window finally hit his ears.  
  
Squeals - that would be Minerva.  
  
Whining - that would be Ron, he was aptly named, Snape thought.  
  
Grumbling - that would be Severus.  
  
Sounds of exasperation - THAT would be his wife. He smiled at the frustrated words floating back to his ears.  
  
"Minerva, leave the cake alone, you know it's Severus' birthday, not yours," Hermione growled out. "No, I know that you're younger and prettier than he is, but by Merlin, you can wait for your own party! No, I don't think he wants to have a ladybug tea party for his birthday - RON! Put that lizard BACK in your room!"  
  
His smile grew as he heard her reach the breaking point. 'Three, two, one -'  
  
"SEVERUS!!"  
  
He laughed and threw off the worn quilt he had been wrapped in, a present from Hagrid on their wedding day, so many years ago.  
  
"I'm coming, dear!"  
  
"You damn well better be!"  
  
He wiped the smile from his face and swiftly went to the back garden of their home. The smallish Hogsmeade cottage was surprisingly quaint and light for a former Death Eater's residence, he mused as he looked at his wife's rose garden and the decorations she had put up for the party. Of course, it all screamed Hermione, but he didn't mind, because after all these years, 'Hermione' equaled home. For him and for their children.  
  
He took the silver and green balloons she handed him and snuck a brief kiss as she scowled at him. He walked to the nearest fencepost and tied them on, glancing around for his oldest son, Severus. The 12-year-old Slytherin boy was, as Snape had suspected, sulking around the corner of the house by the broomshed. Snape also suspected that he would have preferred to spend his birthday quietly at Hogwarts. He was a fairly popular first-year, thought Snape, despite the dual hinderance of his mother being the Potions Mistress and his father the Headmaster. Add in a godfather of a former Headmaster swooping through the halls as a ghost and "Uncle Harry" teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and the poor kid had a tough hill to climb. But, he had made friends in his first year and was doing well in his studies.  
  
'He's a good boy,' mused Snape, proudly. He walked up to his brooding son and waited for him to begin venting. Which he did in a very Snapelike manner.  
  
"Dad, does Mum HAVE to put balloons up? And did you SEE the cake her and Mrs. Weasley made me? Did you?" the boy sneered, in a fair imitation of his father while tossing long black locks from his eyes defiantly. "How am I going to show my face at Hogwarts on Monday? I'm not a little kid anymore."  
  
"I know, Sev, I know," said Snape. "But you know how important birthdays are for your mother. Just like any holiday, she goes all out and goes a little overboard. But family birthdays and holidays mean a lot to her - just like you mean a lot to her. So can you at least pretend to enjoy yourself today?"  
  
"Dad - she didn't buy me any - any underwear for my present this year, did she? I CAN'T open underwear in front of the Slytherins," young Severus said.  
  
"No, we got you something I believe you will love," smiled Snape. "Not embarrassing at all."  
  
"What? What is it, Dad?"  
  
"I can't tell you. You're mother will have my head on a platter," said Snape, backing off and shaking his head, yet grinning.  
  
"Dad -"  
  
"She'll hex me! Or poison me!"  
  
"No, she won't. All you have to do is make those goo-goo eyes at her and she'll go all mushy and forget she's mad at you," said Severus, looking sick to his stomach. "Please, Dad? Just a hint!"  
  
"All right. Here's your hint: Uncle Harry helped us pick it out," whispered the elder Snape.  
  
"YES! A Firebolt 2020! YES!" hissed the younger boy. "I'll act surprised, I promise. Thanks Dad!"  
  
And with a hug, the younger boy trotted off - a bit happier about the state of his birthday party. Snape sighed and watched him with pride and a bit of sadness as he mentally swore - yet again - to not let his children go down the dark path he once had.  
  
"Knut for your thoughts," said a feminine voice in his ear. He smiled.  
  
"I was just thinking what a great kid we have there," he said. "All of them, actually. How in the hell did that happen?"  
  
"With us for parents? No idea."  
  
"I mean it, Hermione. Severus is a bit brooding, but he's clever and makes friends easily. He's one of the top students in his year. Ronald can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's a good boy and amazingly gentle and kind. Sometimes I think he'll be another Hagrid, he's so good with animals and magical creatures - only quieter. And Minerva - she's the spitting image of you. Brains, beauty and a powerful young witch."  
  
"I'm hoping she'll follow in my footsteps at Hogwarts, like Severus is in yours. Gryffindor, prefect, Head Girl, top OWLS and NEWTS -"  
  
"As long as she doesn't sleep with any of her professors, then she can follow in your footsteps," growled Snape, possessively. He looked across the garden to his youngest child, a curly-headed toddler setting the table with her mother's old wand. "Let's just say I don't plan to hire any young and handsome men to teach before she graduates. All the teachers we currently have are either too old for her or are her family," he finished.  
  
"So you don't have anything to worry about," smiled Hermione. "But, just remember how well our story has turned out, love."  
  
He smiled and pulled her in for a deep and lengthy kiss; only pulling apart when he heard his children making distinct gagging noises in the distance. He looked at his wife mischievously and said softly, "I suppose now would not be a good time to tell them we're having another baby?"  
  
"Good Merlin, no!" laughed Hermione, giving him a soft peck and smiling at the "blech" noise that escaped from six-year-old Ron. "Severus' class just had their wizard anatomy and sex lesson this month with Poppy. I think he's come to grips with the 'grossness' of how things work, but the idea of you and I actually 'doing it' would probably ruin his birthday."  
  
They laughed softly together for a moment.  
  
"All right, what's so funny? Did my favorite Slytherin turn up wearing Gryffindor colors to his birthday party?" came a voice from behind them. They turned and smiled at their guest and his wife, as the pink blur that was Minerva attacked them.  
  
"Uncle Neville!!!" she gushed, pouting. "Mummy said we can't have a ladybug tea party for Severus' birthday."  
  
"Mean ol' Mummy," teased Neville, looking over her curly hair at Hermione, who was hugging his wife in greeting. "Tell you what, princess, if Mum and Dad say it's okay, you can come to work with me on Monday and we'll go into the ladybug room and you can see them all."  
  
"Really? You have a ladybug ROOM?" squealed the three-year-old girl. "Can we bring Ron too? He LOVES bugs."  
  
"Yep, ladybugs help us protect the plants from mean bugs who want to eat them," said Neville, seriously. "So they have a room all to themselves. And yes, of course, Ron can come, too."  
  
"Mummy? Daddy? Can I?" she asked.  
  
"Of course, pumpkin," said Snape, taking her from Neville's arms for a quick squeeze. "Go tell Ron."  
  
He set his daughter down and she skipped off to her brother, who was busy keeping the family cat away from the food table by spoiling it with attention and scratches. Snape held his hand out to Neville for a handshake.  
  
"Things going well at work, then, Neville?" he asked, gesturing that they should follow the women, who had already moved to the picnic tables. "I heard from my cousin that you've gotten another promotion."  
  
"Yes, last week," smiled Longbottom. "I can't believe it myself."  
  
"I can, you were always talented at Herbology. By the way, did Hermione tell you she asked Professor Sprout to come today?" asked Snape. "She thought the two of you would like to catch up."  
  
Neville's eyes lit up and he began to speak, but was interrupted by a loud, dual female squeal from the direction of the cake.  
  
"I think Cassie just told Hermione our good news," he said, smiling. "We're expecting our first baby in about seven months."  
  
"Congratulations, Longbottom!" said Snape. "Thank Merlin I don't teach Potions anymore, if you're reproducing."  
  
Both men laughed comfortably before being interrupted by another squeal. It was Snape's turn to smile: "I think she just told Cassie OUR good news. We're expecting in about seven months, as well."  
  
The two expectant fathers shook hands and went to join the women. Young Severus had apparently heard enough of their conversation and was standing next to the cake, contemplating it and looking decidedly green.  
  
Snape thought to go console him, but was stopped by the arrival of another guest: Harry Potter. The two men shook hands briefly before Hermione and Neville claimed him in discussion. Snape then trudged over to his son, feeling strangely embarrassed about the whole situation.  
  
"So, I guess you heard," he said, clearing his throat, shoving his hands into the Muggle jeans Hermione bought him and desperately wishing for some robes to swish. His son looked at him in disgust.  
  
"Yep." Young Severus glared at the group of adults when Harry yelped happily and began to spin Hermione around.  
  
"Are you looking forward to having another brother of sister then?"  
  
"I suppose. It's just - well, it's just gross, Dad. It's MUM. And -- You guys are old."  
  
Snape laughed self-consciously and glanced over his shoulder at the group of adults pretending very hard not to listen to the discussion.  
  
"Well, I know Poppy told you all about the mechanics of sex, Severus. But there's more to it than that. You're mother and I love each other very much and it's how we can best express -"  
  
"Merlin's balls, Dad! Stop! I'm going to have to go poke out my mind's eye as it is, I don't need a play-by-play from you," spat Severus. His father thought he heard a few choked giggles behind him. He sighed and plowed ahead.  
  
"Severus, some day you are going to find a young woman that you love," began Snape, as Harry joined him and handed him a glass of whiskey with a grin. "Not just love, but someone you love so much you would give up everything for her, die for her --- And when you do, I promise that it won't seem gross to you. Making love to your wife will be the most incredible and life affirming thing you can do - right up there with loving and parenting your children."  
  
"It's not sex that seems gross, Dad," sneered the boy, under his breath. "It's you and MUM doing it. Merlin, haven't you done it enough? You're in your 50s and Mum is in her 30s, I mean - geez. It's not like you're young anymore!"  
  
"Sex isn't just for hormonal teenagers, Severus," his father finally snapped. "In fact, it would be best if you remembered that and didn't do any experimenting of your own until you finished Hogwarts, young man. Or married, would be better."  
  
Harry spat part of his drink back into the highball glass and Hermione walked to join the men's chat.  
  
"Oh, yeah, right, like you two waited until you were married," said Severus.  
  
"No, we didn't," admitted Hermione. "But, your father WAS the first man I ever slept with and besides, I don't see-"  
  
"And I was in college before I had sex with a woman," said Snape, sipping his drink. "We were responsible adults and prepared for any risks or consequences, son. That's the most important thing; being old enough to accept the responsibility of the magnitude of the act itself and the possibility of becoming a parent. Because birth control isn't foolproof."  
  
"Well, how old were you, Mum? You were obviously out of Hogwarts, if it was with Dad. Was it when you were in college, too? How DID you two meet up again?"  
  
In the small silence that followed the questions, Harry just beamed and looked from one stunned parent to the other.  
  
"Well, I'll just leave the three of you to chat," he grinned.  
  
"Harry - " they both began.  
  
"No, no, this sounds like a parent-child discussion. I really shouldn't butt in," he said. He squeezed Severus' shoulder before whispering in the boy's ear. "If the story doesn't sound kosher, it's probably not. Owl me, I have the scoop."  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
Severus just folded his arms and regarded his yelling parents with a disgusted expression.  
  
"I'm not sure I want to know," he said looking from one parent to the other. "Although if you can't keep your hands off each other now -"  
  
His tirade was cut short by the arrival of his friends from Hogwarts. He was quickly swallowed up by the group of mostly Slytherin boys and they ravenously attacked the food table that Hermione had so carefully and meticulously laid out. She leaned back against the chest of her husband and smiled, watching the demolition.  
  
"Well, I see that the day's disgusting topic hasn't left him unable to eat," she said wryly. Snape sighed.  
  
"What are we going to tell them?" he said. "Surely we can't tell them the truth."  
  
"Why not? The truth has always worked for us in the past."  
  
"I suppose it has, Hermione. But -"  
  
"Let's just enjoy our son's birthday party today. We'll talk about it tonight," she said, leaning back to nibble an ear beneath the silvery-raven hair. "And then after -"  
  
She felt him grinning into her curls.  
  
"After?"  
  
"I thought maybe after we could do some more of that gross thing that creates these beautiful children of ours," she said, grinning up at him.  
  
"Sounds good to me," he said. "On one condition."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"That you cast your strongest silencing charm, first," he said, chuckling. "I'm not sure Sev could handle it if he heard us."  
  
"Yes, sir, Professor Snape," she whispered, sending a shiver down his spine.  
  
They stood quietly watching the festivities for some time. When Severus and his friends turned their attention from the food table to the gift table, however, they exchanged a brief kiss and returned to the party. Soon, Severus came over to where they were sitting with the chatting adults to thank them for his new broom.  
  
"Thanks Mum, Dad, Uncle Harry," he said, hugging them quickly in turn. "It's incredible. Just what I wanted."  
  
"You're a good young man, Severus," said his father. "You deserve it. Just make sure you don't spend so much time riding it that you fail your final exams next week."  
  
"No sir!"  
  
Severus threw his father a jaunty salute and scampered off with the other boys to the field behind the cottage. Soon the broom was soaring overhead with a variety of different riders. And soon the sun began to set and the party broke up. Snape and Hermione sent their three children to bed while they cleaned up the mess by torchlight.  
  
"It was a lovely party, dear."  
  
"You don't think the balloons were too much?" she asked, chewing her lower lip. A pile of trash and leftover food incinerated at the swish of her wand.  
  
"Well, maybe you can leave them off next year," he said, banishing the picnic tables to the patio. "And it sounds like you have a ladybug tea party to plan for Minerva's birthday."  
  
"I guess I'd better begin planning it soon, too," Hermione sighed as she picked up the last piece of crinkled wrapping paper. "I'll be huge and miserable by then, so I won't be up to doing much. If I get it planned, will you take over on the actual day?"  
  
"You know I will."  
  
The pair sat down on a bench and sighed.  
  
"Did you ever imagine in your wildest dreams that the night we spent together on the grass of the Quidditch pitch would lead to this?" she said, smiling in the darkness.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"You don't regret it, do you?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Not even losing your independence and the free time for research and -"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Can you say anything, but nope, Severus?"  
  
"Nope. I'm a bit preoccupied with the idea of making love to my wife in the grass - think you can add an invisibility charm to that silencing one, dear?" he said, moving his hand from her shoulder to caress one breast.  
  
"I think I can do that."  
  
"Then what are you waiting for, Miss Granger?" he growled.  
  
She just grinned at him, swished her wand and pulled him down into the soft grass beside the bench.  
  
"I do love you, Professor Snape."  
  
"And I love you, Miss Granger."  
  
***  
  
That is to seyn, that telleth in this caas  
  
Tales of best sentence and moost solaas,  
  
Shal have a soper at oure aller cost  
  
Heere in this place, sittynge by this post,  
  
Whan that we come agayn fro Caunterbury.  
  
***  
  
The End. 


End file.
